The Legacy of the Prophets
by Goodpie2
Summary: H.P. Lovecraft was more than just a writer, though he didn't know it. So when humans, decades after his death, find certain artifacts, they look to his work for guidance. But it isn't enough. Forced to flee their home, Humanity stumbles upon a group of races with no knowledge of the Eldritch. To Humanity, the Council is naive and ignorant. To the council, the humans are lunatics.
1. A New Home

Greetings readers, old and new alike! Before we begin, I would like to offer an explanation of, firstly, my absence for the past several months, and, secondly, why I am writing and posting a new story rather than updating one of my old ones.

Eight months ago, or something along those lines, I decided to take a break from fanfiction to work on the novel I'd been putting off for years. The inspiration caught fire, and for weeks, it was practically all I thought about. Then school started. But I didn't want to stop writing, so I tried to balance the two. I failed, ultimately, but that's not the point. A few months ago, I started writing fanfics again. My long-time readers, of whom few remain, will remember that this did not last very long. It seems that during my absence, my readers had finally given up on me, presumably because they were tired of my irregular posting times and unscheduled absences, and stopped bothering to read my story when they got the update. I don't blame any of them for this, and understand entirely- I've done the same thing many times. Nonetheless, the lack of response to my stories struck me rather hard, especially the absence of some of my oldest readers, many of whom I had developed friendships with. That, combined with the worsening of the chronic depression which increasingly rules my life, and various personal crises which I will not go into, led to my abandoning writing of any kind for quite some time. Recently, I decided to get back in the game with this story. Which brings us to the matter of why I'm doing this, rather than picking up my old fics.

The reasons for this are twofold. Firstly, my other stories are all on hold for a little while. Black and White was started on a whim, with even less planning than I usually put into a story, and I'm not sure how to continue. The Chosen Undead needs fairly major rewrites to fix the fact that, for some reason, I skipped the first month of Hogwarts. I'm kind of at a loss with Vermin Lord, and I don't know where to take it. The Gamechangers, by far my most popular story, has grown tedious to write, and I'm stuck with a dilemma regarding how the Empire could wage the war against the Batarians without Human slaves being executed. If you want that story to be continued, I could use some ideas on that. Those Damn Primitives is, in all likelihood, dead, but I refuse to admit that. Protomage _is_ dead, and will not be resurrected. Every time I think about that fic, I cringe. Lastly, The Power He Knows Not is no longer in keeping with my current style of writing, which has grown considerably darker in recent times. Looking back now, TPHKN seems positively whimsical compared to the works that I've written recently. I hope to continue it at some point, but I don't know when that'll happen.

The second reason I'm starting a new story is much simpler, and exactly the same as every other time I've done it- I'm totally in love with this new concept, and can't wait to write it.

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 _ **Humanity's Hope,**_ **The Escape Fleet**

 **18 March 1987 Post Escape**

President Flurenze Midjel tried her best not to fidget as the Escape Fleet prepared to leave the Void. After nearly two millennia, Humanity had reached its new home, and she was the first Fleet President in centuries to have to make any kind of decision beyond maintaining the status quo, so it was understandable that she was worried. What if this new galaxy was under the domination of a Great Old One? What if it had hostile aliens? What if it simply didn't have any suitable planets for colonization? The Escape Fleet's supplies were in running out, and their Void Drives were in poor condition, and the Professors lacked the supplies to repair them. If this galaxy turned out to be hostile, then Humanity would almost certainly be unable to flee. True, most of the ships in the Fleet were armed to the teeth, having originally been warships, but the Human race knew from experience how little that could mean against a sufficiently superior foe. It was this knowledge which led to her (and her advisors') decision to proceed with almost paranoid caution. They would exit the Void in dark space, at least a light year from the target system, and proceed at subliminal speeds. The fleet would then study the system. If it was uninhabited, and suitable for colonization, they would settle. If it was unsuitable for colonization, they would mine the supplies needed to repair and sustain the Escape Fleet, and travel to another system. If there was a primitive alien species present, they would treat the system as unsuitable for colonization, and limit their mining to uninhabited planets. If there was an advanced civilization, they would keep to the outer limits of the system, restrict their mining to areas not frequently visited, and study the aliens in secret for up to a year before making a decision. If there was an Ancient One, they would flee and hope they hadn't been noticed, and, if possible, enact the Sol Initiative.

"Attention to all passengers," came the automated voice of the ship's computer, giving a message which hadn't been heard in over eleven hundred years, "prepare for Void-to-Space Transition in approximately five minutes."

Midjel's stomach twisted in anticipation, but she kept calm. It wouldn't do for her Cabinet to see that their President was scared shitless, after all. She just prayed she wouldn't throw up during the transition.

It was funny, the presence of prayer among Humanity. Practically everybody prayed from time to time, but nobody ever really expected their prayers to be answered. True, a few remnants of the ancient religions remained, but they were small, and usually considered to be as much of a joke as the Derlethians. When Azhorra-Tha had risen from the temple on Mars, and wreaked havoc on the Terrans' civilization, neither God nor Allah nor Nodens nor Vishnu had come to save them. In the end, Humanity had been forced to realize that the Prophets (the True Prophets, not like that charlatan Derleth) had been right- in the face of the creatures that lurked in the Void, Humanity was less significant than an anthill. They might be ignored, and they might be squashed, but they wouldn't be protected, and they sure as hell wouldn't be able to protect themselves. All they could do was escape, and avoid the terrors as best they could.

The Prophets were an interesting subject as well. If you asked a dozen different people who the True Prophets were, you'd get a dozen different answers. All Humanity knew for sure was that Lovecraft and his followers had been, in some aspects, correct. Azhorra-Tha was a perfect example. He clearly existed. His Cult and their destruction of Earth had made that clear. But beyond that, the information written by Ossoway had largely been wrong. Yes, Azhorra-Tha had been residing on Mars, but in a temple, not a prison. And he had been awakened by Human Cultists, not by an alien race. In fact, so far, even Lovecraft himself had been wrong about aliens. The Mi-go had been blessedly absent from Pluto, as early, careful probes had revealed. According to the records, only one alien species had been encountered, back in the fifth century, before Humanity had even left the reaches of the Milky Way in its flight, and they had been fairly peaceable, by all accounts. She had spoken to a few of the Tagers and Others who had been around then, in hopes of gaining some information on what first contact with a species had been like, and while even the Tagers had been surprisingly cooperative, they hadn't really had any insights that the records had lacked.

At this point, she lost her train of thought as the computer spoke once more.

"Void-to-Space transition in one minute."

A wave of nausea (just a taste of what was to come, she'd been told) came over her a few moments later as the bubble of Real Space which kept the ship protected from the mysterious forces of the Void began to shift. It was a tricky maneuver, the Professors assured her, to time the disappearance of the field exactly with the reappearance of the ship. Apparently, if the field were present in Real Space, it would be bad. The Professors refused to give more details than "certain catastrophe," with their usual explanations of how their craft was too dangerous to allow any fragment of knowledge to leave their ranks, because fragments could be pieced together to form an image of the whole, and... well, to be honest, she usually stopped listening by that point.

"Void-to-Space transition in thirty seconds."

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"Attention all passengers: prepare for Void-to-Space transition in approximately five minutes."

"Are weabsolutely _certain_ that this 'upgrade' of yours isn't going to get us all killed, Dean Zwanzon? Because if you're wrong, the entire fleet could be destroyed."

"Nonsense! Only _most_ of the fleet would be destroyed. There would be survivors. The _real_ danger comes afterwards. Even if the drive doesn't explode, the backlash of the flow between Space and Void would create a state of constant flux between the two, basically acting as a giant portal to the Void."

"You mean to tell me that if this thing doesn't work, we'll have a fucking door to Azathoth's home _right in front of us?_ "

"Only if it doesn't work!" replied Nanji Zwanzon, the current Dean of the University of Lovecraftian Science. "Just think! My last work could be the one that revolutionizes Voidtravel! We could go at speeds nobody's ever imagined!"

"Or we could all be destroyed by the Outer Gods, Nanji. It's not worth the risk. We have to disable it," replied Paedru Hurtun, the head of the Advisory Committee, and Swanson's immediate subordinate.

"Oh... Didn't I mention that? I don't really know how to turn it off."

Paedru stared at his boss in horror. "Ma'am, are you in _..._ " he cut himself off. Of course the Dean was insane. Almost all Senior Professors were. In fact, he was far from fully functional himself, given his occasional murderous outbreaks. The only reason neither he nor Zwanzon had been "fired" by the shrinks was because they were truly exceptional scientists. But this...

"Dean Nanji Zwanzon, I am hereby forced to officially state that, as indicated by your behavior in installing this device without proper testing, safeguards, authorization, or even understanding of exactly _what in Lovecraft's name you made_ , you are unfit for continued duty. I must ask you to cooperate peacefully until the Psychiatrists arrive." Hurtun said formally. Then, more intimately, "Nanji, you don't know how sorry I am about this," he said as he activated the button on his wrist. "I'm pretty sure the shrinks will just declare you Mentally Unsound, rather than Dangerously Unsound, but..."

"Don't be ridiculous, Paedru. It's a brain-in-a-jar for me. I've just casually endangered the entire fleet without even checking to see if the damned thing works. You really think the shrinks are gonna let me keep my body after that?" the Dean asked cheerfully as she put her hands into the cuffs that her subordinate had withdrawn. "Nah, I'm just lucky I'm too smart to kill outright. They'll keep me in the closet so you can ask me questions until my mind snaps entirely. Do me a favor, though, will you? Visit me every now and then? I'm sure it'll get lonely, sitting on a shelf with only the other brains for company. If the Psychiatrists won't let you in, tell them it's for a counseling session. You'll be able to keep me sane-ish longer than anybody else, just by talking to me, and the shrinks will know it. And since I'm the only one who even _kind of_ knows what that thing is, you'll need me. Badly, I suspect," she finished sadly as she looked at the tangle of wires and components that comprised her "upgrade" to the ship's Void Drive. "And make sure you clean and power those runes regularly, or the whole thing might go up in flames. I'm not sure, but better safe than sorry. If I knew what the hell they did, I could work out a more permanent fix, but..." the woman shrugged, all of her normal manic cheerfulness gone now.

The two stood in silence for a moment, until the door slid open, and a man in slacks and a blue shirt, wearing the red tie of a Psychiatrist Lieutenant, entered the room. Two more men, in the white ties of Psychiatrist Corporals2, followed, rifles in hand. Seeing Nanji in cuffs, the Lieutenant nodded, and moved to apprehend her.

"Goodbye, Paedru. Remember to visit!" the madwoman called as she was led away by the staid Psychiatrist.

Dean Paedru Hurtun nodded solemnly as his friend and mentor was hauled off for "retirement".

"Void-to-Space transition in thirty seconds."

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"Attention all passengers: prepare for Void-to-Space transition in approximately five minutes."

Andray Luna looked up at the announcement, and gave a silent prayer to Lovecraft that their destination was suitable. Not many people knew it- only the Cabinet, the President, and high ranking members of the Logistics Office- but they were cutting it much, _much_ closer than the creators of the Escape Fleet had realized. According to President Bailey's plan, they should have had supplies for another hundred years when they arrived in their new galaxy. Instead, they could last maybe twenty. The mages were nearly out of things they could transmute into essential supplies, and the Professors were low on repair equipment, especially the things which couldn't be made out of transmuted materials. To make matters worse, the Professors couldn't guarantee that the Void Drives would be able to make another jump. If, for whatever reason, they were unable to gain supplies from their target, the Fleet would have to travel at subluminal speeds, and pray that there was a habitable planet within range. If not... He shook his head, and tried not to think about the possibility. With any luck at all, the new planet would be suitable.

"Void-to-Space transition in thirty seconds."

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"Attention all passengers: prepare for Void-to-Space transition in approximately five minutes."

"Why do I need to be buckled down, Daddy?"

"Well, Rubi, none of us have ever gone through a transition before. The Fleet's been in the Void for a very, very long time, and only the Others really know what transition is like. Now, you have your bag?"

"Yes, Daddy. Can I talk to an Other someday? I wanna know what Earth was like."

Hurase Curtez hesitated, then answered his daughter. "I don't think you'd like that, sweetie. The Others are... well, they're not like us. And they don't really like normal Humans all that much."

 _That_ was an understatement. Hurase had only had an interaction with an Other once, and the "woman" hadn't even tried to hide her contempt for "lesser" Humans. At least it hadn't been a Tager. Nobody knew how Tagers were made, but they were, by all accounts, the most terrifying of the Others. Some Others could be almost Human, he'd been told. Tagers, though, were different. They were predators at heart, and few of them had had anything to kill in centuries. Most of them had snapped, and been put down by the Psychiatrists. The remainder were restless, and everybody knew that a conversation with a Tager was something to be avoided at all costs, lest you accidentally provoke the Other into violence.

"Why not, Daddy? I thought they were Humans, too." Rubi said as she clutched her bag.

"They are, sweetie. But they're not normal humans. They've... done things to themselves, and some of them think that they're better than us because of that."

"Are they Cultists?"

"What? Oh, goodness no. In fact, most Others hate Cultists even more than normal Humans do. In fact, they were some of the ones who fought the Cultists in the War." It was true, too. By all accounts, Others regarded Cultists with a loathing most humans couldn't understand, and Humans held a universal hatred of any Cult. "Now, in a few minutes, you're going to feel very bad," said Hurase as he sat down. He didn't need to be strapped in, he'd been told, but standing would be unwise. "That's normal. If you get sick, try to get it in the bag, but we can clean up if you miss. After that, it's off to class for you."

"Okay," the little girl said cheerfully through the bag she'd put over her head.

Hurase chuckled as his daughter played with the bag, then sighed. She'd had a doll, once, but it had been taken by the mages to transmute into more supplies. He hoped he could get her another one, once the Fleet finally landed.

 _Just a few years,_ he told himself. _If Humanity can wait two thousand, I can wait thirty._

"Void-to-Space Transition in thirty seconds."

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As usual, President Midjel's prayers went unanswered. Like nearly everybody else in the room, she vomited spectacularly, and was grateful for the bags they had been provided.

When she was done, she looked up into the smirking face of Owen Carr, the leader of the Eldritch Society, and scowled. Damned Others. At least Carr acted like a Human most of the time, she reminded herself. And _looked_ like one. Some of the Others were barely recognizable as having been human once.

"Well, President Mitchell," Carr said, "It would seem we have arrived. There is little to do now but wait for a debriefing from Captain Olsen and Dean Swanson."

Midjel's scowl deepened as Carr's Terran accent butchered her name and those of her subordinates. If, for some bizarre, otherworldly reason, you couldn't tell that somebody was an Other just by their appearance or attitude, their accent was always a dead giveaway. The Human language had changed, over the centuries, and in different ways aboard the different ships. But the Others always had a Terran accent of some sort. It could be a "Texan Drawl," or they could speak "The Queen's English," or any one of a dozen other accents. Some of them would even lapse into their native language from time to time. The official reason was that the Others wanted their cultures to stay alive, if only through them. Privately, Midjel suspected it was just to remind the mortals they interacted with that the Others had been present before even the War, and that they would remain present after the death of the last mortal Human.

Her thoughts wandered idly as they waited, and she scanned the Cabinet members.

Jack Harper, the head of the Psychiatric Institute. Despite the rumors regarding his glowing blue eyes, Harper wasn't actually an Other. Others weren't allowed in the Institute, though they were employed from time to time if the dreaded Psychiatrists were unable to eliminate a target on their own. Those occasions were rare, though, and limited almost exclusively to the instances when the Sorcerer or Professor in question was able to overcome or evade the agents sent to subdue him. For the most part, the Psychiatrists were able to take care of virtually any threat on their own, employing neither mages nor Others. The Psychiatrists knew virtually everything that happened on the Fleet, and had agents everywhere. They were, in many ways, even more feared than the Eldritch Society. At least with the Society, they were open about what they did. Not so with the Psychiatric Institute. You never knew who might be an agent, and what they might be reporting. It was unsavory, but it was necessary in a world where Humanity was on the brink of extinction, and a few muttered words could summon otherworldly horrors. Once Humanity had reached a more stable population, and the threat of extinction was gone, the Psychiatrists would not need to be so omnipresent. They would still be necessary, to monitor Sorcerers and Professors, but they would be less ominous.

Jake Jonzon was the head of the Logistics Office, and positively benevolent compared to the silent threat of Psychiatry. Despite that, his was, by far, the more stressful job. It fell to him to make sure that nobody starved, that the ships kept running, and that the Escape Fleet would be more than a pile of scrap metal when it arrived at its destination. His earliest predecessors had done badly, and the results of their mistakes were now his burden (as well as all of Humanity's).

Admiral Wilbert Turner was the commander of the Escape Fleet in all potential military actions, and had been since before the days of President Bailey. The Other was deeply and completely dedicated to the Fleet's mission, and willing to do whatever it took to ensure the survival of the Human race. Unfortunately, his mind, like those of most Others, was not wholly Human anymore, and it was often difficult for others to understand his thought processes. He was, however, a brilliant tactician and strategist, having been one of the few military commanders to plan any kind of successful operation during the War.

Lastly, and most importantly, it could be argued, the Senator for each of the twenty-one repurposed warships in the Escape Fleet were present, even if the Captains were absent. Senators were indirectly elected by the population of the ship every three years. The Captains were appointed directly, in a shared decision by Admiral Turner and the current President. They replaced three captains a year, on a rotating cycle.

These men and women- the Cabinet, the Captains, and the Senators- made up the governing body of the Escape Fleet, which followed the pattern of the ancient (and revered, on most ships) United States Government, with the Captains and the Senators making up Congress.

At last, the door opened and two men walked in. The first was simply a young lieutenant, wearing the insignia of a crew member of the _Humanity's Hope._ The second was Paedru Hurtun, head of the Advisory Committee at the University.

"Report, Lieutenant," Midjel said coolly.

The man snapped a salute. "The Captain wished me to inform you that the Fleet has successfully entered Real Space with no reported damage, and that we are under way to the target star system."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. If that is all, you are dismissed."

The young officer nodded, then turned and left the room.

"Now, Professor Hurtun. I assume that you are here because something has gone wrong with the ship or your department."

"Yes, Madam President. Nanji Zwanzon has been retired. I am now the Dean of the University of Lovecraftian Science. As such, I felt it was my duty to bring this news to you. If we can speak in private, that would be appreciated."

There was a wave of muttering through the room. The Dean's retirement was news to all of them. For it to happen so suddenly, she must have done something particularly dangerous. And for the timing to coincide perfectly with the ships leaving the Void...

"Very well," said Midjel as she stood up. "Dr. Harper, I expect that you will likely have some contributions to this conversation. If you will come with us, we will adjourn to my office."

Harper nodded, standing and falling in behind her. Hurtun visibly shied away from the Psychiatrist, and didn't seem to happy about the man's inclusion in the conversation, but didn't object as they made their way to the adjoining room. Harper waited for Midjel to be seated, then sat down calmly, while Hurtun remained standing.

"Well then, Dean Hurtun. What did your colleague do to warrant so sudden a retirement?"

Paedru Hurtun composed himself, then hesitantly answered. "She... she installed some sort of device on the _Hope's_ Void Drive. I can't figure out what it does, and she didn't know how to disable it. She said it would revolutionize Void travel, and allow us to travel at speeds at least a magnitude of order faster than what we can currently achieve. If it works. If not..." Hurtun really, _really_ didn't want to mention this, but he knew that he had to. "...it might summon an Outer God. As far as I can tell, nothing went wrong this time, but we have no way of knowing if that was just a fluke or not."

Midjel's face paled, and even Doctor Harper's eyes widened slightly as he heard of what the former Dean had done.

"And when did this happen?" the President asked carefully.

"I found her installing it just before the Fleet entered Real Space. After I had her explain what she'd done, I called for the Psychiatrists. When it didn't blow up after the transition, I checked for any sign that it had done anything out of the ordinary, and then started trying to figure out what the thing was. It's... Frankly, ma'am, it's both incredible and insane. I don't dare do much to it, even remove it or disable it, because I have no idea what other changes she made to the Drive, but the runes on the thing... from what little I could figure out before I came here, it really _could_ be revolutionary. Or it could be a disaster."

At this point, Harper spoke up. "As of this moment, the Therapists are examining Miss Zwanzon. It is far too early to tell, but simply from this report, I suspect that she will be declared Dangerously Unsound. Even if that is the case, I will ensure that she will be kept in the employ of the Fleet in an advisory role for at least as long as it takes for you to figure out what she has done to the ship. With her guidance, you should be able to detach the device with ease."

Hurtun's revulsion was clear, but he simply shook his head. "I don't think it'll be that easy. When we were talking, Nanji made it quite clear that she wasn't sure what the device was or how it worked."

"How exactly is that possible?" Flurenze broke in. "She _made_ it. Surely she understands it."

Paedru shook his head again, finally sitting down. "It's not uncommon, in our field. We call it a Mindwrap. Researchers frequently find that they've written or designed something that they're sure is absolutely brilliant, if only they could understand it. You know what this stuff does to our minds after we've worked with it long enough. Well, that can happen in the short term, too. If one of us has been working nonstop for long enough, our mindset starts to shift. We find ourselves able to think in new ways, understand new ideas. Two plus two becomes three, and a square has five sides and three angles. While we're working on it, our mind's able to understand it. Afterwards, we lose that new perspective. Think of it this way. When you read a book, if you read it long enough, you forget that you're reading, and you feel like you're really there. Right? Well this is like that, only to an extreme degree. Professor Zwanzon was especially prone to periods like that. Normally, we have all kinds of safeguards in place to make sure that whatever the person is doing doesn't get turned on, or whatever. Especially with the Senior Professors, and absolutely anybody who has Tenure. I don't know how she got around all the security measures, but she was brilliant even when she was lucid. During a Mindwrap, she'd have been able to figure out tricks and turns that we never would have thought to block."

Throughout this speech, Dr. Harper's eyes never once left Paedru's, and the newly instated Dean was well beyond beginning to get nervous.

"So, what you're telling me, is that there's very little chance of our ever understanding what she's done?" Midjel asked.

"Oh, no. Not at all. We'll figure it out eventually. Well, probably. It's just that something like this won't be figured out overnight. It can take decades to understand what somebody did during a Mindwrap. You have to be careful, and get a firm grasp of every single underlying principle of the thing. Otherwise, you'll wind up able to understand it, but nobody else will be able to understand _you._ That's a big part of what makes the field so difficult. As it gets more and more developed, it takes a mind that's more and more warped to understand it. That's also the reason why so many of us try to become Others. It allows us to continue working in the field longer without going insane quite so fast."

Harper still hadn't blinked, and Hurtun was sweating now.

"So, it'll be decades before you've figured out what this thing is?"

"Probably, ma'am. I'll make it a top priority, and put some of our best Professors on it, but we won't be sure for a long time to come. It'll probably be a while before we can even take the thing off of the Void Drive. If we can take it off at all. They might be too heavily integrated to safely remove it. In which case... Well, it would be a _really_ bad plan to turn it on until we understand it fully."

"In other words, the _Hope_ may not be able to enter the Void again for decades," President Flurenze said dully.

"Well, not necessarily. It _might_ be possible to just take out the Void Drive and put in another one. It would be tricky, and would depend heavily on what kind of work it's undergone over the centuries, but there's a slim chance it could happen. But in all probability, yes, the _Hope_ will be grounded for a very long time."

"Very well. You are dismissed."

Hurtun nodded, turned, and left the room hastily, obviously eager to get away from the Psychiatrist's luminous gaze.

"Is he reliable?" Midjel asked the Psychiatrist after Hurtun had gone. "Do you think he's telling the truth, or is he lying to us for some reason? Or just wrong?"

"Professor Paedru Glen Hurtun. Made an Assistant Professor at the age of twenty-three, a full professor within a year. Committed his first murder at the age of thirty, during an argument with another Professor. Prone to violent outbreaks, and, though he doesn't consciously realize it, cannibalistic tendencies. He is fully lucid roughly ninety five percent of the time, and a raving lunatic the rest, but has no memory of the events during his outbursts" the Head Psychiatrist recited. "By all accounts, one of the most brilliant Professors in the University, even though he must be subdued frequently. He has, as far as my agents can determine, no ambitions beyond further research and experimentation. He may be exaggerating the severity of the matter so that he can justify greater study into a possibly revolutionary device, but, as far as I could determine, nothing he said was an outright fabrication. He believes that the device could be a major breakthrough, and he equally believes that a malfunction could summon an Outer God. My professional recommendation is that you take his advice in most matters regarding the University. As for Dean Zwanzon's ability to circumvent our security measures, the Nurses are already looking into it. Unfortunately, as Dean Hurtun said, a Professor in a Mindwrap would be able to come up with answers we would never even think to ask the questions to. The security cameras and bugs might have something, but I cannot say with any degree of certainty that we will ever find how she managed to build her device and install it without my people so much as realizing she was _in_ a Mindwrap. However, I doubt that we will have such a problem as this again. That she maintained the presence of mind to _try_ and circumvent the security measures, rather than absently building the thing and plugging it in, is highly unusual, and probably due to the fact that she was in a 'wrap almost as often as she was out of one, by this point. She'd have gotten almost used to it."

Midjel sighed. "Well, I suppose that's the best we can do. I'd like to establish better security measures, but if we don't even know what to protect against, I can't really figure out how, short of putting a twenty-four hour guard over all essential equipment. And we have far too much 'essential' equipment for that to be a viable option."

"Indeed," said Harper, standing to leave. "If you have need of me, I am always at your disposal, Madam President, but I have other business which I must attend to."

Flurenze waved her hand. "No, that's fine. Go do whatever it is you need to. I've got things to take care of, too, I suppose. And if I don't, I will soon enough.


	2. First Contact

I'd like to give a big shoutout to GeneratedName, author of When Civilizations Meet and future author of When Civilizations Meet 2.0. Without his advice and guidance, this story would have become a forgotten note in the bowels of my laptop's hard drive.

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 **Orbital Installation, Epyrus**

 **12:90, 32 Arart 2031 Galactic Standard**

Lieutenant Gaicus Marcedus was, in the tradition of sensors officers throughout the multiverse, bored. That was, officially, a desirable quality. Officially, if there were anything to be excited about or interested in, it was either a Bad Thing or above his paygrade. Unofficially, an invasion would be preferable to trying to pay attention to the stubbornly blank sensor arrays covering the wall in front of him. There wasn't even any incoming traffic. Epyrus didn't get much traffic. Not legitimate traffic, at any rate. Pirates seemed to come at least twice a month, taking advantage of the relatively light security forces in the system. But the last _scheduled_ Relay activity had been half a week ago, and there wasn't anything else scheduled for another two days.

Which was why a massive dreadnought coming in from the outer limits of the system was obviously an error of some sort. Especially since the ship was only showing up on the gravitic sensors, and not the radar, radiation, thermographic, and radio charts. Nonetheless, Gaicus was a good Turian, and good Turians followed orders and protocol. In this case, that meant he was to call in a techie, and try to get a LADAR read on the "serpent" in case it turned out to be something more than an error.

"Command, this is Sensor Station 3," he relayed to his superiors. "I'm getting anomalous readings from the sensors. Requesting tech support and verification of functionality of equipment."

"Sensor Three, this is Command. Your station received maintenance less than a week ago. Equipment should be fully functional. Please run a diagnostics check, and attempt to validate anomalous readings," came the slightly puzzled reply.

"As ordered, Command. Diagnostics check underway, and I am already attempting to get a LADAR read on the anomaly. Expecting results within thirty minutes."

"Carry on, Sensors Three. Command logging out."

Gaicus sighed, and leaned back in his chair as the diagnostics ran its course. They'd probably left the "maintenance" to some idiot suit rat, rather than having a proper tech take care of it, that was all. The LADAR ping would show that nothing was out there, and he'd get to take the day off once a tech got up here and started working on repairs. Until then, there wasn't much else to do but wait.

Except that the diagnostic came up negative, when it was finished fifteen minutes later.

And the LADAR, when the signal finally got back, showed an image of a three kilometer ship, in a state of obvious disrepair, headed towards the planet.

The young lieutenant nearly tripped over his feet in his attempt to raise the alarm.

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 _ **The Javelin,**_ **Epyrus Defense Fleet**

 **13:73, 32 Arart 2031 Galactic Standard**

High Captain Verasia Simpraka glanced at her Executive Officer as she strode onto the bridge.

"Sitrep, Isatus," she snapped out quickly as she began to pull up the latest reports on the invader.

"The unknown ship appeared approximately oh-point-eight hours ago on the gravitics arrays of Sensor Station Three," began the XO. "None of the other sensors detected it- only the gravitics. The soldier on watch at the time initially thought it was a technical error, and attempted to validate the anomalous readings via LADAR. LADAR showed an image of a ship, roughly 3.2 kilometers long and in poor condition, approaching the planet at subluminal speeds. The defense fleet scrambled at approximately 13:25. Almost immediately, the unknown ship changed heading to an intercept course with the fleet. The ship in question does not match any known profiles, and there are no colonies on record within FTL distance in the region of space the ship seems to have come from. There has been no change in heading or activity since the ship moved to the intercept course."

"Understood, XO Isatus. Sensors, can you give me any details on the ship?" the High Captain asked as she sat down at the command console.

"Not much more than XO Isatus could, ma'am. It only shows up at all on gravitics and LADAR. It must be running some sort of stealth system, though why they're still running it when we can obviously see them, I don't know. The LADAR imaging shows what very well might be gunports, as well as missing hull plates and possible impact sites. All in all, it looks like a warship that lost a fight. The only really significant thing of note is that there's no signs of any eezo on the entire ship."

Verasia's flanges widened at that. That meant that either this ship was built on totally unimagined technology, or it was a generation or sleeper ship. The implications of either were... significant.

"Very well. Evidence suggests that this is a First Contact scenario, and we will follow protocol _to the letter._ Is that understood, everybody?" There was a chorus of agreements, and the turian nodded in satisaction. "Good. Comms, send a message directly to both the Council and the Council of Primarchs. As soon as that is done, begin recording."

There was a pause, and the Communications Officer spoke. "Recording in five, Captain."

Verasia waited for a few seconds, then spoke. "Unknown vessel, this is High Captain Verasia Simpraka representing the Turian Hierarchy. If you understand this message, please respond on the indicated frequency and explain your presence in Hierarchy territory. If not, the files attached should give you some aid in translating our language and finding a way to communicate."

"Recording and first contact package sent."

A few minutes passed, and the comms officer spoke. "We're getting a transmission from the serpent, ma'am. Standard frequency."

Simpraka's mandibles flared in surprise. The fact that the unknown ship was actually using the right frequency meant that either this _wasn't_ a first contact, or the aliens knew Turian. "Play the transmission."

The vidscreen turned on, and an image of a creature very much like an Asari-but with white skin and black fur instead of a headcrest- appeared and began speaking.

"Captain Simpraka," the alien said with the slightly tinny tone of a flawed translator, "this is President Flurenze Midjel, representing the Escape Fleet. I have come to officially request the aid and assistance of the Citadel Council."

There was a great deal of activity on the bridge at that statement, but Verasia ignored it.

"Comms, begin recording on my mark," she said to the officer. Then, once the recording light had turned blue, she began. "President Midjel, I would like to establish a direct link with you, so as to enable better communication, if our technologies are compatible."

"Message sent."

"Good. Comms, if they agree, establish the link, and route the message to the debriefing room. XO Isatus, you have the bridge."

"As you will, captain."

Simpraka rose, and moved to the debriefing room adjoining the bridge, and sat down in a chair facing the main vidscreen. A few moments passed, and the screen lit up, showing President Midjel's face once more.

"Hello, and on behalf of the Citadel Council, welcome, President Midjel," said Simpraka formally.

"Thank you, Captain Simpraka. I hope that our races will get along peacefully."

"As do I, President Midjel. You understand, though, if I will ask a few questions."

"Of course, Captain Simpraka."

"Firstly, how do you speak or understand Turian?"

"The Escape Fleet has been studying the colony of Epyrus for over eight galactic months. That was more than enough time for my techs to be able to develop a translation software."

"And why have you been studying my people?" Verasia asked, somewhat angrily.

"Because, Captain, the Fleet is all that is left of the Human race. If we were to ask for aid, only to immediately be conquered, my race would likely be driven extinct. We have not fled for two thousand years, only to be destroyed at our destination. We had to be _absolutely certain_ that you would not seek to kill or enslave us, and the only way to do that was to spy on your people."

The captain's mandibles flared once more. " _Two thousand years?_ Your people have been running for _two thousand years?_ From what?" Then she caught herself, and shook her head. "I apologize, President Midjel. That should _not_ be the most important of the things you just said. You say that the fleet is all that remains. Exactly how large is your fleet? And how many humans are on it?"

"I understand, Captain Simpraka. It would seem rather extreme, were I in your position, rather than the other way around. To answer your question, the Escape Fleet contains twenty-one vessels, twenty of which remain serviceable, and one point two million Human beings."

"Spirits... And that's all that's left of your race?"

"Indeed."

"And, if you don't mind my asking, what _were_ you fleeing from?"

President Midjel hesitated. "A being of immense power, which attacked our world. Suffice to say that it was responsible for the deaths of over thirty five billion Humans, and the destruction of our home world."

Simpraka gaped. "I...see," she said eventually. "And the aid you requested?"

"Fuel. Materials to repair our ships and their systems, if it can be spared. Shelter, if it can be found. Food for over a million people. Medical supplies for the same. Clothes, shoes, and blankets for at least a third of our population. In our current condition, we can survive for, at a maximum, twenty of your years. If the Citadel were to lend us supplies for half that time, our odds of survival would improve immeasurably. We have little to repay you with, but it might be possible to share some of our technology. Much of our more advanced technology is dangerous, but we have some things which your civilization lacks."

"For example?" Verasia prompted.

"I'm afraid I can only share that information with either the Council, or an ambassador who is fully authorized to negotiate on the Council's behalf. That is, in fact, the reason why we came here today. The _Humanity's Hope_ has lost it's Void Drive- our method of FTL. It is, essentially, stranded. We would have gone to meet the Council directly, but the civilians aboard the _Hope_ cannot be abandoned, and the other ships lack the room to take them aboard. If you could arrange for either an ambassador or an alternative method of transportation, we would be happy to begin discussions. We have already compiled a brief history and codex of my people and our culture, which will be transmitted as soon as this discussion is over."

"I'm afraid I will have to contact my superiors for that, President Midjel. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?"

"If you have a surplus of levo-amino foods, or of various metals, my people would be grateful to have them. Other than that, there is little that we can do for now."

"I'll see what I can do."

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 **The Black Box, The Citadel  
11:48, 1 Suria 2031 Galactic Standard**

"Finally, we have what could be a very important matter, depending on how we handle it," said Councilor Tevos as she poured a glass of Serrice N Brandy for herself, and offered the bottle to her counterparts. The drink was, essentially, a Serrice Ice Brandy of ridiculously high quality (which was saying something, considering the quality of the "cheap" stuff). Despite the name (and the advertisements), N Brandy did not, in fact, have anything to do with liquid nitrogen- that was simply a marketing gimmick.

"Assume you are speaking of the race asking for Council aid," said Dimort, the Salarian councilor, as he ignored the bottle in favor of the large pot in front of him, and the small, spiky urchin-like creatures it contained. "Could indeed be very significant. Codex implies highly unusual technology, if Humans are willing to trade."

"Frankly, this 'codex' of theirs seems more like a religious text than anything else, and that religion is mostly a hoax," argued Councilor Erasnion, as he took the proffered bottle and poured himself a glass. "I mean, let's look at a basic summary. Twenty-three hundred years ago, they discovered an artifact which allowed them to perform _magic_ and use mathematics and geometry completely different from anything in reality. They built new technology off of this. The bizarre mathematics involved drive their researchers insane, so they create an organization to regulate the knowledge. Then some cult awakens a _god_ , and it attacks their planet. Within one year, only a million humans are left. They use a device of some sort to make their sun go nova, and then leave their home galaxy. Now, here's what I think happened. They discovered a Prothean beacon, or ruins, or artifacts of some kind. The scientists wanted to keep the power to themselves, so they came up with this nonsense about it driving people insane, and being based on magic. These 'sorcerers' of theirs are simply biotics, obviously, who have been convinced that they have to use rituals and spells to use their abilities. The 'Others' are clearly the result of some sort of deranged genetic and cybernetic experimentation, if they're not just ordinary people in costumes. There was some sort of civil war, or _maybe_ an alien invasion. The propaganda, of course, tells people that they're under attack by one of the 'Outer Gods' that their religion talks about. This group lost the war, and, rather than face defeat, activated some sort of horrifyingly powerful weapon of mass destruction. The survivors make up this nonsense story about leaving the galaxy. They lie to their people about the speed of their FTL, and spend the next few hundred years going to a new solar system- Epyrus. It hasn't been two thousand years at all- probably no more than a couple hundred, given their lifespans. The leadership has just been lying, and this University is still hoarding all the knowledge on technology. They find us, and realize that if they tell _us_ the truth, but keep lying to their people, they'll be in trouble. Or maybe the leadership at this point truly believes the nonsense their predecessors have been saying. Either way, they spin us this fairy tale, and present it to us as history." Finally finished, Erasnion leaned back and took a sip of his brandy.

The other two councilors thought through what their companion had said, then nodded.

"That does seem to be the case," Tevos began. "I suspect that the current leaders genuinely believe the story they gave us, though. As you said, their supposed history seems to have been made into a religion of sorts. And since they have a semi-democratic leadership, the leaders who concocted the story would have eventually had to pass on the position to people who didn't know the truth. At that point, they had a choice of telling them what had really happened, and risking it get out, or just continuing the lie. I suspect that a few individuals kept up the ruse for a few generations, until it had finally become universally accepted, and then let the truth die out. But what of this 'Psychiatric Institute'? They supposedly kill off sorcerers and scientists who go insane. How do they keep that ruse up?"

It was the Salarian, and, more importantly, former STG head, who answered that question. "Is simple practice," Dimort began. "No witnesses to executions. Executions never happened. Supposedly insane scientists retire to a life of luxury, but seclusion. Luxury provides incentive to willingly cooperate, while seclusion ensures that the general populace never sees the supposedly dead individuals."

The Turian and Asari councilors exchanged a glance. From how readily their counterpart had proposed the suggestion, they suspected that this was a former, if not current, practice of the STG regarding "assassinated" operatives. The practices of the STG were not their concern, however.

"So, in summary, this University has a conspiracy designed to ensure that they maintain a monopoly on their technological capabilities, while a former conspiracy has been transformed into a perverted religion among their people. The scientists will doubtless refuse to share their technology, because when our scientists study it without going insane, the game will be up. They have no resources to trade, and possibly practice genetic experimentation. And you two are proposing that we give them aid?" Erasnion seemed dubious.

"Their religion may be a perversion to us," Tevos said, "but it is all these people know. Why would they doubt what has been presented to them as truth for centuries? The origin or reality of their religion says nothing of the people, while their devotion to it is admirable. And can we really deny aid to a species in such dire need?"

"Would set a dangerous precedent. Quarians in similar position," Dimort pointed out. "But could be to our advantage. STG and Spectres could likely get ahold of technology or schematics. Could provide benefits."

Tevos carefully avoided mentioning her views on the Quarian plight, knowing that her "allies" did not share her opinion on the matter. Instead, she presented the official party line- "The Quarians broke Council law. These people have not. Or at least, not intentionally. Should we agree to give them aid, they would, of course, have to become an Associate Race, and follow the laws of the Council regarding genetic experimentation. It would not take a great deal of resources to feed only a million people. Not in a galaxy populated by billions. And we would almost certainly gain at least some new technology. They couldn't possibly keep the STG and the Spectres out forever, and once they do, reverse engineering any samples we capture should be a simple enough task."

Erasnion shook his head irritably. "I can see that the two of you are determined to go through with this. Very well, I shall agree. When are these lunatics getting to the Citadel?"

Tevos scowled at the Turian, but instead answered his question. "The representatives of the _Humans_ will be arriving within the week. Among them will be a few of their top scientists, their President and her advisors, including the leader of the supposed 'Eldritch Society', and a small security force. There will also be a number of their 'Psychiatrists', who will be acting as security for the scientists. They were adamant that the Psychiatrists be present in addition to the regular security force. Apparently, the leader of the University, as the result of his supposed 'insanity', can become extremely violent without warning. They didn't outright say it, but I suspect that he has committed at least one murder for the sake of this ruse."

"And you two want to help these people," Erasnion said with a certain degree of disgust.

"The actions of a few individuals do not condemn the race," Tevos said carefully. "The Professors at this University are truly despicable, yes. But the rest of them believe that tolerating the insanity of their scientists is necessary for their survival. They do not realize that they are being duped, and act as best as they can with the knowledge they have."

"Perhaps. But the race has committed atrocious acts in the past, and I see no indication that they will not in the future."

Tevos simply shrugged and took a sip of her drink, before responding "We shall see."

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 **The Presidium, The Citadel**

 **10:00, 5 Suria 2031 Galactic Standard**

Tevos, Dimort, and Erasnion watched as the shuttle bearing the human delegates landed. Traditionally, the Councilors would have waited in the imposing, and ostentatious official Council Chambers for alien delegates to arrive. This would have shown and symbolized that they had been waiting for centuries for the younger races to come and seek the guidance and wisdom of the Council. By going out to meet the aliens, but sending an ambassador for any business beyond the Citadel itself, it instead showed that they were willing to go out of their way to aid the Humans, but only so far as was reasonable in light of their other duties.

The shuttle door opened, and figures began to come out. First, the C-Sec squad that had been assigned to the delegates. Next, two Humans in what appeared to be power armor, carrying large, heavy guns. The soldiers took up posts on either side of the door, standing perfectly still and clutching their weapons in front of them. Four more Humans-three males and a female- came out, wearing black pants, a white top of some sort, with a black jacket over it, and some kind of black strip hanging from their necks, and formed into two lines, extending out from the door and facing the crowd. Next came a male and a female, these in gray pants and blue shirts with red strips. On their hips were what appeared to be some form of small arms, and in their hands were black batons. They joined the line formed by the humans in black. Finally, the actual delegates came out. First came a female that the Councilors recognized as President Midjel, accompanied by five other Humans. President Midjel and two of her companions wore attire identical to that of the four in black. One of them had glowing blue implants for eyes, and wore the gray pants and blue shirt, but with a violet strip hanging from his neck. The next was in some sort of dress uniform. The last was, again, wearing the black pants and jacket, white shirt, and a black strip hanging from his neck (this seemed to be the standard formal attire for the Humans). The primary difference was that his hands were tightly bound behind his back, and he wore a look which would, on an Asari, indicate some sort of strain or significant discomfort.

"It seems a rather excessive show, doesn't it?" Erasnion muttered to his companions.

"No more excessive than the show most species give upon their first arrival to the Citadel. In fact, compared to the Batarians' arrival, this is positively casual," came Tevos's reply. "Although, having one of their members bound like a criminal is a nice touch. He is, without a doubt, Dean Hurtun, their lead scientist."

"Indeed. Would not be surprised if, during the discussions or dinner, he broke out into a violent episode to 'prove' his insanity."

Erasnion smirked, while Tevos just shook her head in sadness at how these people had been misguided and manipulated.

The Councilors looked at each other. "Time for us to meet delegates." Dimort said, to which Tevos smiled softly, and Erasnion shrugged. Together, the three most powerful beings in the galaxy faced the humans and stepped forward to greet the delegates of a tiny, primitive and brainwashed race as equals.

"Welcome to the Citadel, President Midjel. I am Councilor Tevos, and these are my partners, Councilor Erasnion and Councilor Dimort. The three of us represent the Citadel Council, the guiding hand of the galaxy." Tevos, as usual, had been nominated to be the spokesbeing for the Council, and would be doing most of the talking, if all went according to plan.

"It's a pleasure, Councilor Tevos. These are Admiral Wilbert Turner" she gestured toward the human in dress uniform, "Jake Jonzon, head of the Logistics Office," one of the humans in the apparent formal outfit, "Owen Carr, the head of the Eldritch society," the other human in the formal attire, "Doctor Jack Harper, the head of the Psychiatric Institute," the one with the implants in his eyes, "and Dean Paedru Hurtun, head of the University of Lovecraftian Science," the man with his arms bound. "They are my advisors and cabinet, and we represent Humanity."

Tevos nodded at each of the Humans in turn, then turned to Midjel. "Traditionally, we would offer you a tour of the Citadel, and then conduct the discussions in the public Council Chambers. We thought, however, that you might prefer to skip the tour, and that the discussions might best be held in a private office."

"I appreciate the thought, Councilor Tevos. While I would certainly love a tour at some point, it would be best to conduct the discussions first. And yes, in private would certainly be best."

"Very well, then. If you will follow us, we will begin immediately. Afterwards, we would be honored if you would join us in an official banquet, where the representatives, ambassadors, and leaders of the Citadel races would be thrilled to meet you."

Midjel raised her eyebrows, and her gaze seemed to shift, ever so slightly, towards the bound man, but she simply said "We would be honored to join you, Councilor Tevos." Dean Hurtun visibly cringed at this, but said nothing.

Tevos's smile widened ever so slightly. They had arranged so that the Dean would be next to an STG researcher. If he had an "episode", he would be taken down immediately. If not, the Salarian would engage the man in scientific discussions, and attempt to learn what he could.

"Excellent! I'm sure it will be an enlightening experience for all of us. But first, more important matters are at hand. This way, if you please."

The Human party followed the Councilors through the Presidium, into the elevator, and into the Citadel's tower, where they went through the Council Chambers and into the more private offices at the back. As they moved, the two humans in power armor and the four in black took up positions around the party, while the two Humans in blue shirts (apparently some sort of uniform for the Psychiatric Institute) fell into place slightly behind and on either side of the Dean.

The room they entered was quite unlike the ostentatiously imposing Council Chambers where public audiences were held. It held several comfortable armchairs, each of which had a small table next to them. A larger table was in the center of the arrangement, which had a set of six omnitools resting on it.

The councilors remained standing, but indicated for their guests to sit down.

"Would you care for any refreshments?" Tevos asked.

"No, thank you. There will be time for that later, hopefully."

"Very well, then. These," the Asari gestured towards the omnitools, "are Omnitools. We had them prepared for you in order to make the discussions easier. With them, you will be able to view and edit the documents we have prepared for the discussions, as well as study our people and history. It was proposed that you be given a few hours in private to learn how to work them, discuss matters among yourselves, and study the Codex which is available to all citizens of the Council races. We understand that you have been discretely studying the colony of Epyrus for some time now, and thought that providing a more complete picture might be helpful."

"Thank you very much, Councilor Tevos. That sounds like an excellent idea. The information we gathered is far from complete. And to answer a question I'm sure you carefully won't ask, we limited our studies to public transmissions. There were many among us who wanted to read private and encrypted transmissions, but it was decided that it would be best not to anger you in the event that you had a way to detect such things."

Tevos was surprised at this. Not at the statement, but the explanation of the reasoning. President Midjel had more or less openly stated that the sole reason they hadn't spied on military or private communications was that they didn't want to get caught. Most races would at least pretend it was out of respect for the rights of others or the laws regarding such issues. Not that she believed for an instant that the Humans _had_ restricted themselves to public communications.

"Well, I suppose an opportunity to study the Codex is more important than we thought, then. With your permission, we will leave to take care of other matters while you familiarize yourselves with the Omnitools, and come back in a few hours."

"That would be perfect, Councilor Tevos." Midjel said.

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Some time later, the Councilors were sitting together in the Black Box, the highly secret and incredibly secure room where the most sensitive of discussions were held.

"Human soldiers were remarkably thorough," Dimort was saying. "Managed to find not only all of the decoys, but many of the real bugs as well. Even fewer survived purge. Humans used unknown device to shortcircuit many bugs. Fortunately, some survived. Is sufficient, if unsatisfactory. Will have STG begin work on analysis of device used, and ways to negate it."

"Do they think that they're secure, though?" Erasnion asked.

"Undoubtedly. Have discussed many topics which would not want to reveal to us. Examples: flagship is out of commission not because of mechanical error, but because of unauthorized and potentially dangerous experiment on enhancing their FTL drive. Did, in fact, monitor secure and military communications. Soldiers are genetically modified, and suspect this 'Eldritch Society' works heavily with genetic experimentation and modification, as well as other potentially unethical fields. Humans clearly believe that they can speak freely after activation of unknown device. Which makes next recording an anomaly." Dimort pressed a button on his Omnitool, and the voice of Owen Carr played out of it.

"There's something strange going on here, ma'am."

"What do you mean, Owen?" President Midjel said.

"I can't quite describe it. You'd need experience with the Eldritch to understand it, and most mortals don't have enough experience to notice it. But look around you. My operatives are even more restless than normal, and Dean Hurtun looks as if he's going to be ill."

"I feel like it, too. I know I haven't had an episode in a few days, but normally they come without warning. I don't think that's what this is. It feels a lot like when I'm working out of the Necronomicon, but different."

"And that is significant cause for concern. If something of the Eldritch, or something like it, is at work here, it must be found and contained. We left Sol to get away from the Ancient Ones. We don't want to find that our new home was created by them. These people say that the Citadel was made by the Protheans, but it's too _old_ for that. Any member of the Society could tell that, just by being near it. It's even older than some of the artifacts we used to work with before the War."

There was a gasp at this declaration. "What can we do?"

"For now? Nothing. If there is truly an artifact here, it could be that everybody on this station is a member of a Cult. We cannot allow them to know that we suspect them, but we cannot allow them to live, if they are Cultists."

"If I may, I have a suggestion." This was Dr. Harper, now. "The Therapists have noticed that Professors, when affected by their mental illnesses, have different mental patterns than would be expected. Former Dean Zwanzon, for example, was almost constantly giving unique readings we couldn't understand. Dean Hurtun, on the other hand, has episodic events, during which his readings are disturbingly similar to those on record as having been noted with Cultists and some Sorcerers. Namely, the ones who were receiving psychic signals from Azhorra-Tha, Cthulhu, or other Ancient Ones. Now, whatever phenomena is occurring here is likely to be significantly different from the ones that we are familiar with, but they may work on similar principles. If we were to induce an episode in the Dean, he may be able to form a sort of corrupted connection with whatever is happening."

"And then I'd turn into a Cultist. I don't particularly feel like being executed, thank you." Hurtun replied sharply.

"Not so. Your brain is, under normal conditions, remarkably resilient against mental intrusion. That's one of the reasons you are able to work with Lovecraftian artifacts as much as you do without being driven insane or becoming a Cultist. It is, in fact, the _only_ reason the Institute has seen fit to allow your continued existence in any sense. Were you even slightly less resistant to mental control, you would have been executed the moment we became aware of your alternate state."

"Wonderful. And if I'm permanently altered by whatever's going on here?"

"In light of this development, whether we induce an episode or not, you will be submitted to rigorous testing upon our return to the Fleet. Should any kind of permanent change have taken place, you will be retired or executed immediately. So, from your perspective, the only difference that would occur is that your episode will occur in private, and be gotten over with, rather than running the risk of it happening in public. As you said, it has been several days since your last episode. The stimulation and uncertainty of a banquet would be dangerous, and the odds of your _not_ having an episode there are virtually nil, unless you have already undergone it. We can only theorize as to why, but my agents have noticed a minimum gap of seven point six hours between your psychological breakdowns. That should be plenty of time for us to get you out of here safely."

At this, Midjel spoke up. "Hurtun, it is _essential_ that we make a good impression on these people. They probably think we're lunatics, given what we've told them. If you attack or kill anybody, we're going to have a lot more trouble on our hands than we need. If we can get a grace period, that would ensure that at least one potential problem is out of the way."

The councilors could all picture the look of distaste on Hurtun's face as he spoke. "Fine, dammit. But if I'm permanently altered, I want a bullet in the head. Don't you _dare_ keep me on for experimentation or study, or even as a brain-in-a-jar. I've read the histories- Cultists can be charismatic, and they have some way of spreading their... whatever they have. More to the point, I don't particularly feel like living as an experiment for the next few years."

"Fair enough," Midjel said. "Dr. Harper, go ahead."

"As you wish, madam President. Lieutenants, if you will bind him more securely, and draw your weapons, we will begin immediately. Nonlethal methods only- the Dean is too valuable a scientist to lose unless no alternatives are available."

There was some movement, and some sort of unpleasant noise began to play over the recording. A few minutes later, it stopped, and they could hear Hurtun screaming, then laughing, and then shouting some sort of unintelligible gibberish.

"Rug'weshp fccporl fhtagn pois'tiw..."

"Carr, can you understand him?"

"Some, ma'am. It's clearly related to the Old Languages, but it's either garbled or in a dialect we're not familiar with. I can make out something about a Harvest, and the word 'sleeping', or perhaps 'waiting'. I can't make out a word of this part. The word 'Harvest' again, then what seems like nonsense even to me, and 'Vanguard', then something about a betrayal by slaves. It's not a spell or a summoning, I'm fairly sure- it doesn't have the right... well, layout, is the best way to put it. It seems like he's just chanting something."

"How long do his episodes usually last?"

"They can continue for over an hour, but normally not much more. This, as he indicated before we began, is far from typical, however. Normally he doesn't say a word, he just kills and eats anyone he can get his hands on. I honestly couldn't say how long this is going to continue."

Carr spoke up again. "It's interesting to note that whatever we were feeling seems to have increased as soon as he began speaking. I can feel it much more strongly now."

"Well, what should we do? Can we sedate him?"

"I'd advise against it. As unpleasant as this feeling is, if we can translate what he's saying, it might give us useful information. I'm willing to put up with the discomfort for as long as it takes, if it will be useful, and my agents will alert me if it gets to be too much for them to handle. I suggest we set up a recording device, and ignore him."

Dimort ended the recording, and pulled up another. "The only things of interest for the next hour or so are their unusually strong objections to the Genophage, and the expected reaction to the Quarian situation."

"Did... did that man say that the Dean _eats_ his victims?" Tevos asked, visibly nauseated.

"Indeed. Is probably just a claim made to further hoax, but may be willing to go so far as to actually perform the action occasionally. Not enough data. However, is related to next clip."

Dimort pressed play, and the sounds of the Humans arguing about something began. After a few moments, Hurtun's voice spoke.

"Can I be untied now? At least for that seven hour grace period you mentioned?" the Dean sounded rather strained, as if he had actually gone through a trying ordeal.

"I fail to see any reason why not. Lieutenant, remove his bindings, if you will."

A few moments of relative silence, then the sound of flesh hitting flesh, followed by a great deal of activity, including some shouting.

"You fucking _bastard_ ," Hurtun could be heard saying. "Bit my tongue my _ass._ How many?"

"I'd wondered if you were conscious for that. Would it really help you in any conceivable way to know how many human beings you've killed and eaten? I think not. Suffice to know that safeguards have been in place for some time now, and it is no longer a concern. Should you feel the need to assault me again, I _will_ have my agents sedate you for the duration of our trip here. Agreed?"

" _Safeguards?_ You put up _safeguards_ to make sure I didn't EAT PEOPLE? Bullshit. I should've been retired after my first victim. And I will be, as soon as we get back to the Fleet."

"No." Midjel spoke now. "You are too valuable a researcher to lose, especially in light of what Professor Zwanzon did to the _Hope._ If you like, you can be put under a twenty-four hour guard, but you will _not_ be retired. Not even just to an advisory role."

Hurtun grunted. "Fine. Twenty four hour guard. Even during the grace period, dammit. _And_ I want reparations to the families of the victims and witnesses. Don't bullshit me, Harper. I may be a lunatic, but I'm still damned smart, and any idiot could figure out that you've been killing the witnesses to my attacks. _Heavy_ reparations, or I'll tell the poor bastards what really happened to their loved ones. Understood?"

"Are you _blackmailing_ the Institute?"

"Yes. Yes I fucking am. As you said, I'm too valuable a researcher to kill. And before you even think of going there, if my family faces any kind of _accidents,_ I'll talk, dammit. And not just about me. I know what that maniac Adams got up to in his spare time, and he was _perfectly_ sane. There's all sorts of information out there, to somebody smart enough to find it."

"Enough." Midjel spoke harshly. "Hurtun, you will not speak of _anything_ that can harm the government, the Institute, or the University. Harper, you will restrict your assassinations to people who absolutely must be put down for the sake of security, and pay their families reparations. Anonymously, and in a manner that doesn't make them ask questions we can't answer, but you _will_ pay reparations from now on. But I will not have two of Humanity's most essential organizations wiping each other out in a blood feud. Understood?" A pause, here. "Good. Now, Dean Hurtun, you say you were conscious during this last episode. What can you tell me?"

"Not much that you don't already know. It hurt like hell. I said weird shit. I was going in and out, to be honest. I was only awake a bit at a time. No, I can't remember or translate any of what I said. I know some of the Old Languages from my work, but I doubt I'd be able to figure out anything that the Society can't."

"Nonetheless, I want you to work with the Society during the translations. Your perspective might prove to be helpful. And I don't want a word of _anything_ about this to get out, you hear me? If you so much as dream about what's happened here, I swear to Lovecraft I will have you executed for treason. People are already worked up enough over the idea of getting a new home. We can't let them find out that there may be Eldritch activity here until we know _exactly_ what is going on. As far as anybody knows, nothing has changed."

The recording ended.

"I'm sorry, but why did we need to listen to this?" Erasnion asked. "All I can make out is proof that these organizations of theirs are manipulating the people. I suppose President Midjel's words present her in a new light, but beyond that, I don't see any real significance beyond this."

Tevos shook her head. Like most Turians, Erasnion's thinking was simply too honest and straightforward for a real politician. He was, at heart, a general.

"Don't you see? With that little act of theirs, they just shattered our plans. By pretending to have been under the influence of some sort of artifact and that the Citadel is much older than the Protheans, the Dean has given the Humans a reason not to trust us. They have convinced President Midjel that we may be brainwashed by something from their religion. If we bring up our demands for the dismantling of the University and the Eldritch Society, she will take it as confirmation that we are members of one of these Cults that they fear so much. In demanding his own execution should he be 'altered', he ensured that she will take the threat seriously. To make it worse, they have ruined any hope we have of exposing their charade. By pretending to have only just learned about his supposed cannibalistic tendencies, and by insisting that he be placed under an armed guard and demanding reparations for those harmed by the act, Dean Hurtun has ensured that the President will feel greater trust and sympathy for him."

"In other words, they were making sure there wasn't any risk that they would be exposed, because their president no longer trusts us. Wonderful. So what do we do now? Hope that they don't tell the next president the same thing? Because I doubt that will work." 

"Indeed not," said Dimort. "Must find undeniable proof, if wish to end conspiracy. Will be difficult. Probably require physical evidence, or cooperation of a conspirator. Will claim that anything digital has been faked, and play off of mistrust and supposed brainwashing."

"In the meantime, we must modify the proposal we will suggest to them. I think we can still demand they stop creating 'Others,' as they are a clear violation of council law. And, using their own claims, we can force them to limit the control of their University. If their technology is too dangerous to share with our scientists, surely it is too dangerous to share with the public! I think that a galaxy wide restriction regarding any 'Lovecraftian' technology would be quite reasonable. If they can only use their technology on the single colony we give them, surely they will adopt Mass Effect technology. That removes the University's monopoly on production. Especially once we manage to duplicate any devices they might have which we lack."

"Very well. I suppose it's about time we go meet the Humans for the actual discussions, then. It's not like we can gain anything more by waiting."

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Midjel looked up as Tevos and the other Councilors entered, and smiled as warmly as she could manage given what she had learned.

"Well, we trust that the past few hours have been helpful?" Tevos said, as warmly as she could manage given what she had learned.

"Very much so, Councilor. We appreciate the assistance you gave us."

"It would be remiss of us to do otherwise, in light of the situation. Even with time you were given, you will be at a severe disadvantage in the discussions, and it would be unfair of us to take advantage of your, if you will pardon the term, ignorance. We might gain some temporary advantage, but any perceived deception on our part would lead to resentment and strife between your race and the Council, meaning that we may lose something in the long run."

"I find that to be impressively enlightened, Councilor Tevos. I hope that others share your view, though something tells me I will be less than fortunate in that regard."

"Indeed." Tevos' smile faltered slightly, but at the same time became more sincere. The President had a certain coldness to her, as indicated by her acceptance of Harper's assassinating witnesses to certain acts, but she truly did try to do the best thing for her people. As far as she knew, Harper's methods were essential for the progression, and even survival of her species.

The Councilors joined the Humans in the circle of chairs, and Tevos leaned forward. "Regardless of our methods, it is now time to begin the discussions, I believe. The first, and most important matter, is that of your new home. You will be granted, should you agree to certain conditions, the Turian colony of Gellix, which they find to be a hindrance, rather than a benefit, for a variety of reasons. You will not force any current residents to leave the planet or solar system, but the system will be under your jurisdiction, and the residents will be required to abide by your laws and acknowledge your rule, and whatever government the Human race deems suitable for their new situation. The system, especially the planet, is already fairly developed, but largely unused. Any abandoned installations, facilities, or equipment currently within the system will become the property of the Human government. Any activities occurring in the system will, likewise, become the responsibility of the Human government."

The humans were visibly surprised at the generosity of the Council, which Tevos took advantage of, and presented her next statement while they were off balance.

"In exchange, the Human race will become an Associate Race of the Citadel Council. The Human government will be required to comply with and enforce all Council laws, as well as new modifications and specifics created to suit your unusual situation, culture, and technology. You will pay a moderate tax to the Council, and in exchange receive the protection of the Citadel's forces, trade rights, benefits, and aid as befits any Associate Race, as well as an Embassy on the Citadel. You will be required to, within one standard galactic century, have adopted Standard Galactic Time for all official business. You would be required to adopt the Standard Galactic Credit as your currency within twenty five standard galactic years. Those are the basics, though there are, of course, a great deal many more details."

"You mentioned modifications and new specifics created for humanity. What kind of new rules would we be required to follow?" Midjel asked.

"Ultimately, the modifications exist to expand the existing laws to cover Lovecraftian technology and methods. For example, many, if not all, of the methods your codex described for the creation of Others violate the intent, but not the letter, of the laws concerning genetic modification and experimentation. Under the modifications we have created, the creation of Others will fall under the realm of genetic modification. There are other examples such as this, but that is the primary concern."

"I'm afraid that is unacceptable," Carr said. Tevos had expected as much, but didn't interrupt. "Others are not only an important part of Human culture, we are a full culture of our own. Many of us, myself included, are actually the sole remaining examples of ancient Human cultures. I, for example, am one of a handful of remaining Human who was raised in the United States of America, and the only remaining United States Congressman. There is one surviving member of the People's Republic of China. A single married couple is the entire United Kingdoms. Were you to ban the creation of Others, you would be infringing on our cultural rights, and the preservation of existing Human culture."

The councilors stood in an almost stunned silence, before Erasnion nearly growled. "What did you just say?"

Carr smiled softly. "I said, that if you were to ban the creation of Others, you would be infringing on the cultural rights of Humanity, and banning the preservation of our current and future culture. Historically, if any Human has discovered a method of becoming an Other, it has been viewed as his inalienable right to enact the procedure, so long as it did not bring any other humans to harm. Under your new rules, that inalienable right will have been revoked. Humans have sought to become Others for nearly as long as we have walked upright. It is a significant part of our cultural psyche. Eliminating the right to enact the procedure would seek to eliminate that drive for over a million humans, when only a few, if any, would succeed in even discovering the methods required. The Citadel Council has millions of established legal precedents of noninterference in regards to violation of Council Law as part of the Council's cultural noninterference policies. Banning the creation of Others goes against this noninterference policy, and violating the standing legal precedents indicates a massive and potentially disruptive change in policy."

"And how would banning your genetic experiments be disruptive in any way?" Tevos could have _slapped_ Erasnion for that, but it was already out, and the human's smile had turned feral.

"Well, if the Citadel Council were to adopt a policy of enforcing Council law, regardless of long standing cultural views and rights, then that would imply that they were to, among other actions, bring the Batarian Hegemony into line with Council laws regarding slavery. This would do untold damage to both economies, as the Batarians would lose millions of unpaid workers, and be forced to find a way to raise the billions of credits to pay for employees which they have not needed for millennia. The Council, on the other hand, would find itself faced with the prospect of transporting millions of their citizens. Once those citizens were, somehow, transported, the medical, food supply, clothing, housing, and other essential industries would be pushed to and beyond their capacity. _Then,_ once all of those citizens were cared for, the Council and Associate races would find a massive influx of primarily unskilled laborers, raising unemployment to hitherto unimagined levels.This is just one of many examples, of course, but it is the most prominent practice which falls under the category of cultural exemption."

Erasnion looked as if he could have killed the man, Dimort's mouth was slightly open, and Tevos, though she did not look it, burned with a hatred more intense than she could remember feeling in decades. This man, a charlatan sorcerer, had just trapped the Council in a web of contradictions, and, in doing so, taken control of the discussions. More to the point, this primitive, inexperienced, _child_ had made a mockery of her and her Citadel Council, the guiding force of the galaxy.

"Of course, as you said, the laws as currently written do not apply to most Lovecraftian methods. Were we to agree to them unmodified, the situation would be wholly different. Humanity would pursue this dangerous field at our own risk, and determinedly guard the secrets of the procedures, while our own culture and laws would ensure that no unwilling participants would be harmed. And, of course" Carr said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "any technique which involves genetic modification, Lovecraftian or conventional, would be banned under the existing laws."

"I suppose that, when it is presented in that light," Tevos found herself saying, "it would be more than reasonable for the Human race to agree to the unmodified Council laws."

"Excellent." Carr smiled once more, then stepped back. Tevos blinked, and wondered when he'd gotten so close to her, but mentally shook herself.

"Well, since you will be agreeing to the unmodified laws, the only other matter is that of your technology, and the Eldritch Society and University of Lovecraftian Science. By your own statements, these are far too dangerous to allow into the general public. The technology represents a danger to anybody who studies it, and the mental stability of your Sorcerers and Professors is questionable, at best. As such, they will be limited to human space only. Human technology, save specific, certified exceptions, will be limited to the Human systems, and members of either organization will require special permission to leave Human controlled space. Do you have any objections to this?"

"Absolutely not," Midjel said. "In fact, we had planned to enact our own laws to such an extent, and to request that you do the same. Extending the regulations to the Professors and Sorcerers was unexpected, but reasonable, and so long as permission is not unreasonably withheld, I have no objections at all."

Tevos tried not to glance at Carr, and mentally frowned when he did not object to such a severe limitation of his powerbase. What was he playing at? This should have been a crippling blow to his little conspiracy, so why was he grinning?


	3. Plots and Conspiracies

Originally, this would have been added to chapter 2, but I completely forgot about it. I know it's not really long enough for a chapter of its own, but it was important that it be up with chapter 2, rather than posted in sync with chapter 4, because it's about events that happened during or after the discussions. It was also going to be longer, and include the banquet, but I really couldn't think of any way to make that interesting enough and/or long enough to be worth it. So... yeah...

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 **The Black Box, The Citadel**

 **1:50, 6 Suria 2031 Galactic Standard**

"So, what have we learned?" Tevos began the final discussion of the night. Being a Councilor often required long hours, and the introduction of the Humans had, in some ways, required them to work harder than ever before to gather and interpret available information.

"Not much," Erasnion replied. "Carr is too smart for his own good. I checked their Codex for their history- the United States was a government supposedly in operation before their discovery of the 'Lovecraftian Artifacts'. That's at least twenty-three hundred years ago, according to their history. Given realistic estimates, and if he really is some sort of heavily modified Human, he _might_ have been a member of their ruling body. But as always with these people, it's probably just another part of the scam. Other than that, they didn't really give anything away."

"Talked to agents present at banquet. Conflicting data. Hurtun clearly highly intelligent. Able to grasp basics and mathematics of Mass Effect fields within moments. Yet agent is absolute that Hurtun believed in impossible things. Not simply acting, according to agent. Other human scientists similar. More importantly, no inconsistencies between stories. All Human scientists spoke of identical formulas and principles, believed them strongly. All principles spoken of seem nothing more than gibberish."

"Bah," the Turian councilor snorted. "They've had time to practice their stories, and we don't know enough about Human body language to tell if they're lying or not. They're just so similar to Asari that we _think_ we can read them."

"I must agree. Your agents are the best at what they do, but even they cannot possibly read the body language of an alien race which was only introduced to the galaxy this week. The University has had many opportunities to perfect their act, and their most experienced Professors would be talented actors by now."

Dimort was less certain, but said nothing. All he really had to counter them was that one of his agents had claimed that he could _almost_ understand what the Human had been talking about. According to the agent in question, each individual fact that the man had stated had been true and logical, yet taken together as a whole, they were contradictory and impossible. But one anomalous report which amounted to nothing more than a vague confusion was not enough to counter cold logic and reason, so the Salarian Councilor squashed his misgivings under a layer of rational thought and ignored them.

"Very well. Spectres are in place?" he asked.

"Indeed. With credentials backdating them for reasonable periods. We should have samples of their technology within a few months, and significant progress within a year."

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Paedru Hurtun sat at his desk, contemplating the events of the night. Specifically, what he had learned of the Institute's operations. They were well covered up, but Dean Hurtun was a genius. He could reach places the Institute didn't know to hide things from, and piece together clues that were too small to be worth changing. And the pieces formed a significant whole. A whole that Dean Paedru Hurtun had not liked. Like everybody on the fleet, he feared the Psychiatrists. That fear was especially profound among the Professors, who bore the brunt of the Institute's wrongs. However, there had always been a small, silent minority that felt something more than fear. It was in tiny things, but it was there. A shift in the eyes when a colleague was "retired." A barely audible curse when a Psychiatrist left the room, rather than a simple sigh of relief. A shared glance, on the infrequent, but not rare, occasions when a shrink took liberties with a Professor or a civilian. And over the centuries, those tiny little details had been noticed a very careful few. Words were whispered, in quiet parts of the ship. Messages were hidden, slipped in among scientific notes that the Psychiatrists scanned, but could not comprehend. Slowly, secretly, and very, very carefully, things had begun to happen. Never large things. Never important ones. Tiny drops of water, in a tremendously large bucket. A scrap of wire disappeared, a couple of numbers didn't add up quite right. But the waves of an ocean could erode the slopes of a mountain, given enough time. And the ocean was, ultimately, drops of water.

So, with a click, a memo was sent. Ripples began to form in the bucket. Slowly, secretly, and very, very carefully, waves began to form.


	4. Making Waves And Settling In

Alright, I've noticed a very peculiar phenomenon which seems to be occurring when I upload my documents to FFN. Every now and then, a couple of words will disappear from the story. They're in the OpenOffice or Word document, but missing from the DocX file. Unfortunately, I can't edit the chapter without it showing up as an update, and I usually don't catch those errors unless they're pointed out to me (I work without a Beta. Yes, I know it's a bad plan, but it lets me get the story to you faster, so stop complaining). The result of this is that, unless the missing words are important, they're gonna stay missing until the next update. I just wanted to inform you that I'm aware of the problem, and nobody seems to know how to fix it, so we'll all just have to put up with it.

Angry Guest- You... you don't really read much, do you? 'Cause that wasn't dark. Not very much so, at least. It was _moderately_ dark, if I'm being generous to myself, and I think I will be, 'cause I'm a nice guy like that. I _tried_ to get it dark, but it didn't really come out right. The scene with the kid was especially a mistake... And to be honest, it really wasn't very in line with the themes of the Cthulhu Mythos, because I got one very important fact wrong- in _my_ story, there were survivors. That really shouldn't have happened, but it's no fun to write for a bunch of dead guys, so I fudged that a bit. As for your other objections, I'd address them in depth, but you didn't log in, and I'm already pushing appropriate length for an author's note. On the off chance that you actually read this, PM me, and I'll explain the methods to what you perceive as madness.

Anywho, ON WITH THE STORY!

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 **Councilors' Offices, The Citadel**

 **~08:30, 17 Niginia 2032 Galactic Standard**

"Well, what do you propose we do? Once again, the Humans have neatly trapped us such that we have no reasonable recourse against them!" Councilor Tevos said challengingly. "If we are to ban our citizens from joining this 'Gellix Republic,' we would appear to be tyrants, oppressing the free choice of our people! Can you even begin to imagine the political and public repercussions we would face? To make matters worse, they have, once again, taken advantage of legal precedent! Historically, if a citizen of any of our governments has joined one of the governments in the Terminus Systems or an independent colony, they have lost all rights as citizens in their species' government. The sole difference with the Humans' new system is that the citizen in question will still be part of a Citadel government! So I ask again- what would you have us do? Brand the citizens who are joining the Gellix Republic as traitors? The Republic is, to our chagrin, an officially sanctioned government of the Citadel. We read their proposed 'constitution,' and approved it in every regard, without fully realizing the consequences. Even if we had realized that our own citizens would join this new government, on what grounds could we have forbidden it? Independent colonies operate on similar lines, and the Humans, once again, recognized a precedent that they could manipulate to their advantage. Our hands are tied by our own laws and practices- there is nothing we can reasonably do but to be more careful with the Humans in the future. They are clearly far more clever than we thought, and we must take care that they cannot continue to manipulate our laws to their advantage." Tevos sighed as she finished her speech, and shook her head.

The Councilors sat in silence for a while as they considered the changes the Humans were bringing to the galactic stage. Until now, almost all governments in the galaxy had been based on the species of its members. Members of the Asari Republics were required to follow Asari laws, wherever they went. The same was true of Salarians, Turians, Elcor, Volus, and all the other spacefaring species. The Gellix Republic, on the other hand, based it on their territory. In the Republic's territory, only their laws and Council laws were recognized and enforced. This had been managed through, once again, legal precedent, this time involving the independent, corporate run Asari colonies, and the lack of enforcement of Council laws in the Terminus Systems. The relatively lax laws regarding substance use, weapons regulation, and other, normally highly regulated issues had already caused an influx of immigration to Gellix territory. To make matters worse, the Republic heavily incentivized immigrants to undergo this "naturalization" process, and become full citizens of their government. Citizens of the Citadel races were flocking in droves to Republic space, and there was no way the Council could stop them.

"Very well. If we can do nothing about this damnable naturalization process of theirs, what do you propose about the Volus situation?"

Tevos frowned. That was another massive change brought on by the humans. As misguided and primitive in their beliefs as the Humans were, they were exceedingly clever in their political machinations, tying webs out of ancient, forgotten laws, completely insignificant clauses, and regulations so widely accepted that they weren't even noticed anymore. It was a totally unheard of concept, and the other races were already beginning to pick it up. The Volus, for example, had unearthed a clause in the original, five-thousand page long Unified Banking Act which permitted for "reevaluation and adjustment of currency values, exchange rates, interest rates, or other significant financial matters, to be undertaken by a coalition consisting of no fewer than sixty-five percent of financial organizations in Citadel Space." Since the Volus controlled a healthy seventy-three percent of the banks, financial companies, and investment brokers in the galaxy, they could easily meet that percentage. Din Porlus, the Volus ambassador, had hinted quite heavily that the entire economic system might just undergo heavy "reevaluation" if the Vol Protectorate didn't receive it's "Well deserved, in light of our contributions to the Galactic economy" Council Seat, as well as independence from the Turian Hierarchy.

"Give it to them." Tevos and Erasnion nearly jumped at the sudden statement. Dimort had been silent for nearly a third of an hour, and they had almost forgotten he was there.

"What?!" Erasnion was shocked, but Tevos was more thoughtful.

"Independence from Hierarchy is minor issue. Turians no longer need economic aid of Volus. Volus clearly no longer desire military aid of Turians. In fact, Turians legally obligated to give military aid even if Volus independent, as with all Associate races. And Council seat is truly well deserved. Volus singlehandedly created Galactic Economy. Qualifies as 'extraordinary service.' Even if did not, reevaluation of current economy would be heavily in favor of Volus. Lose-lose situation for us, win-win situation for Volus."

"And what of the other stipulations for a Council seat? Providing resources and aid to the Council?"

"Is as much legal fiction as anything used by Humans." Dimort said, ignoring Erasnion's snort, and the hateful glare the Turian shot his way. "Volus easily capable of providing all resources legally possible under current situation. Only thing they are unable to provide is military support, and unable to provide military support unless given a Council seat. Treaty of Farixen ensures this is the case."

"He has a point," Tevos said. "The Volus are one of the oldest races in the Citadel. They got here even before the Turians did. And, as Dimort pointed out, the Unified Banking Act was created almost entirely by the Volus Clanmeet. The problem is the instability such a change would cause, and we can get around that. We all know that Volus aren't made for combat- why not take advantage of that? As Erasnion has said, Council races are required to provide military support. If we were to require the Volus to reach military capabilities equaling our own within, say, fifty years, it would be a truly difficult thing for them to accomplish. The Volus are pragmatic people. They would either recognize the impossibility of the task, and accept that they will not be able to keep a Council seat, or they will try and fail, and we will have reason to remove them from the Council."

"And what of their demands for independence?" Erasnion frowned. "We _could_ manage our finances if left to our own, but it would be difficult, and we'd be less efficient than the Volus are."

"Then enter a treaty with them. Offer military protection from pirates and invasion, which, as Dimort pointed out, you are required to give them anyway. In exchange, they will provide their economic expertise, and run your finances fairly and in your best interests. One of my people will draft a treaty, and you can examine it before we present it to Ambassador Porlus. Be honest with yourself, Priorius. Are you reluctant to let them gain their independence because your people need them, or because it goes against your pride to release an unwilling client state from their bonds?"

Erasnion wrestled with himself for a moment, before sighing. "Damned humans. We should have just given them a planet in the Attican Traverse and let the pirates and warlords from the Terminus wipe them out. This is all their fault, damn them. Fine. But the Volus only get thirty years, not fifty. And if they can't meet it, they have to become a client race of the Hierarchy again."

Tevos frowned. That wasn't very reasonable, but then, unreasonable was what they wanted. They didn't actually _want_ to offer the Volus a Council seat- they just wanted to _look_ like they were. "That sounds acceptable. I will have my attendant draw up a proposal, and we can look it over before presenting it to the Volus. What else do we have on the docket for today?"

"The Batarians are requesting rights to expand into the Attican Traverse, and..."

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 **Society of Lovecraftian Art and Science Headquarters, Washington DC, Gellix**

 **~3:45 PM, 9 August 1989 Post Escape**

Dean Paedru Hurtun looked around in satisfaction as he strode through the headquarters of the newly combined University and Eldritch Society. After a few discussions, it had been decided that a closer partnership between the two organizations was desirable, and, due to the close working relationship and friendly rivalry between the organizations, the unification had gone quite smoothly. There were still some kinks to work out in the leadership of the organization, but all in all, it was going quite well. As were the renovations to their new headquarters. The building had been a Turian research station, so it was both well fortified and well equipped- both of which were important for the new Society. In light of the... indiscretions of the Spectres and STG, security had been stepped up considerably, including automated defense turrets and drones, as well as the normal guards, security checkpoints, and cameras. Food supplies were being stored in the mess hall, so that the researchers could get meals without having to leave their work unattended, and transmutable materials were being stored in the basement, so that nobody would have to wait for materials to progress their experiments. Things that couldn't be transmuted were being bought in quantity, for the same reason.

A gunshot rang out, and Hurtun picked up his pace, following the shouts until he came upon the scene of the crime.

Two corpses lay on the floor of one of the minor laboratories. One of them, a fairly recently inducted student of the University, had been beaten over the head with a heavy wrench, which lay only a few inches from the hand of the second corpse. The second man was a young Professor, only having gotten Tenure a few years ago, and had been shot in the chest with a shotgun, which was held loosely by one of the older professors standing nearby.

"Lovecraft dammit," Hurtun said angrily. "That's the third time this month! What the fuck happened here?"

The man with the shotgun, Zerry Wulker, spoke up. "I was showing Patton around the principles of Mass Effect technology- using the shotgun as an aid," Wulker raised the shotgun, and Hurtun saw that it had been almost fully disassembled. "Then Professor Vargas came in and started shouting about how Patton was going to expose him, and they would kill us all, and all that. Vargas grabbed the wrench I'd been using a while ago, you know how I'm trying to make a Mass Effected Void Drive, right? It didn't work. Nearly blew up. I had to go back to the basics, and it turns out..."

Wulker was rambling now, and the Dean snapped his fingers. "Wulker. I need you to focus. You can get back to your experiments later, but we have to get this straightened out, or you might be retired."

Wulker's eyes went wide, and he shook his head. "No, no. Vargas killed the kid, and was about to go after me when I grabbed the shotgun I'd been taking apart and shot him. I was lucky it worked, or he would'a killed me, too. It should all be on the cameras."

Hurtun nodded. "Good man. If we can corroborate that, you'll be fine. Did anybody else here see anything?"

Another one of the older Professors spoke up. "Not today, but Professor Vargas has been getting jumpy lately. He kept muttering about how they were working to undermine them, and they had to be stopped, or they'd get away, and stuff like that."

Hurtun sighed. "Does anybody know what he's been working on lately?"

Another Professor, one of the younger ones who hadn't gotten Tenure yet, spoke up. "He's mostly been working with that Mass Effect stuff. He's been trying to combine it with Lovecraftian principles, just like most of the rest of us. I was helping him. We've been working out of the Necronomicon a lot, trying to get some of the more advanced math to work with the stuff the Citadel folks use. Come to think of it, he's been using the Eldritch books a lot more heavily than our work needed, and he did seem a bit jumpy, too. _And_ he's been in a Mindwrap at least twice in the past few weeks. We musta been trying to go a bit too fast, I guess, and he snapped."

"Dammit people, we can't keep this up!" Hurtun said angrily. "That makes two murders and a suicide this month alone! I know the Mass Effect stuff is exciting, but we can't just jump into it without safeguards! I'll let out an official memo after I've talked to the shrinks, but until then, nobody works alone, not even on the easy stuff. That goes doubly for the younger Students and Professors. If you don't have Tenure, you don't touch the Eldritch materials unless somebody who _does_ have Tenure is present. Professor Killur, I want you to get the security footage for the past hour and a half. And everybody who'd been working with Professor Vargas, I want you to write up a report on his behavior for the past month. Now clear out of here, and make sure you don't touch anything."

The Dean shook his head, and went to talk to the two Psychiatrists who had just arrived. It was an open-and-shut case, that much was obvious, but a thorough investigation was always the best for everybody.

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 **Psychiatric Institute Headquarters, Washington DC, Gellix**

 **~5:30 PM, 9 August 1989**

Doctor Lara Pulmer frowned as she read the report. Two more Professors dead. One insane, one killed by the other. That wouldn't normally be cause for concern, except that the insane one had been a Nurse, and had passed his latest Evaluation with only a few notes of concern. Oh, that explained it. Vargas had gotten carried away with the new Citadel technology, and had been working more heavily with the Eldritch lore than he should have, according to all but a few reports. Vargas had been loyal enough, but he'd always been a researcher at heart, and the excitement of the new science had apparently driven him to work faster than he should have, according to his assistant. Multiple people had heard him muttering to himself about betrayal and exposure, and about "them" and the security systems had been hacked from his omnitool just before the murder. Oh well. It wasn't really worth worrying the boss about, but he liked to be informed of these things, so she flagged the report as confirmed and forwarded it to Doctor Harper.

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 _ **Maiden's Grace,**_ **Gellix Orbit**

 **~12:30, 5 Kinentho 2032 Galactic Standard**

Tela Vasir frowned as she examined the strange, ancient book she'd managed to grab from the Human research facility. She'd heard a nearby scientist say that the _Cthäat Aquadingen_ had been stolen while she'd been making her escape, so she assumed that this was it. Why a scientist would want something like this, she couldn't imagine. Nor could she understand why it had had such high security around it, and why some of that security had been laughably primitive. It had been locked in an iron box, with actual metal _chains_ around it, and some sort of horrid symbol drawn on the lock in a dark brown substance. That box had been in a vault, with some of the most heavily encrypted locks she'd ever encountered on it. If it hadn't been for the program given to her by the Shadow Broker, she'd never have been able to get past the Humans' firewalls in the first place. And it hadn't worked perfectly. As soon as the software had gotten the vault open, turrets hidden in the walls had opened fire on her, and an alarm had gone off. All in all, she'd gone to a hell of a lot of trouble for this relic, and she wasn't entirely certain it was worth it.

She gave the thing a closer look. It had some sort of bizarre symbol on it, and writing in a language that brought to her mind images of things with tentacles and gaping maws with too many teeth coming out of the dark and... Vasir shook her head. She was letting the Humans' bizarre religious tales get to her, apparently. She shoved the thing into her bag, and went to call the Shadow Broker. He'd assured her that whatever was in that vault was the key to unlocking the Humans' energy technology, but she was less than certain that this book would be of interest to anyone but an archaeologist. Nonetheless, he would get a copy to use as he would, as per their standing agreement. The Council would, of course, get another copy. In addition, the STG, several of the Asari Matriarchs, and a number of other groups had discretely expressed interest in Human technology. She wasn't sure how many of them could translate the damned thing, since it clearly wasn't in the normal Human language, but that wasn't her problem. She just had to make a few copies, and quietly sell them to the interested parties.

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 **Oval Office, Washington DC, Gellix**

 **~8:00 PM, 8 October 1989**

President Flurenze Midjel, officially elected leader of the Gellix Republic, twisted her face in displeasure as she read the report. A copy of the Cthäat Aquadingen had been stolen from one of the (relatively speaking) low security vaults in the new Society's headquarters. She frowned. It was distasteful, letting the ignorant fools get their hands on any grimoire, but it would have happened eventually. The Cthäat Aquadingen was relatively harmless, and the Cultists and minor Shoggoths it resulted in would be relatively easy to clean up. Humanity hadn't been left alone entirely, these past centuries, and had gotten quite good at destroying the metaterrestrial beings which a careless or insane sorcerer might summon. And _this_ time the damned things wouldn't be trapped on ships with hundreds of thousands of civilians, either- they'd probably be trapped in research labs on abandoned planets or asteroids, where they could do relatively little damage.


	5. Deep Ones and Sacrifice

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 **Psychiatric Institute, Washington DC, Gellix**

 **~7:00 PM, 15 October 1989 Post Escape**

 **10 Months After First Contact**

"You had a pair of nines? God dammit," Loluh Andrus said, throwing down her cards in disgust. "How the hell you can keep a straight face like that when you're as crazy as the rest of us, I'll never understand."

Hurtun smiled as he scooped up the flash-formed chips they were playing with. "It comes from spending all day in meetings with Others and shrinks. You gotta keep your mind empty, your face calm, and your story straight. Fuck up, and you'll get eviscerated or shot, depending on who you're talking to." He shrugged. "You learn fast under those circumstances. And you know fully well that I'm completely sane most of the time. Sure, I'm a complete lunatic for something like an hour a day, but the rest of the time, I'm actually extra sane, according to Harper."

"Really? 'Extra sane?'" smirked Ethel Washington. "How exactly does that work?"

Paedru shrugged. "Something about having increased mental resilience against the Eldritch. I wasn't really listening at the time. I was too focused on other things."

"What kind of 'other things'? Andrus asked as she dealt out the cards.

"You know, fate of Humanity and all that. We're making waves, here. These people don't know anything about the Eldritch or Lovecraft, and they've been completely stagnant for centuries. From what I've seen, it seems like, until we came, their politics were mostly based on obstructing absolutely everything and trying to stay exactly the same for as long as possible, and everybody was happy with that. I've been reading their histories, and it's got some disturbing parts to it. Like when the Batarians just up and invaded a colony, and nobody made a fuss over it because they weren't willing to change the status quo by going to war. We're a major change here, and the people in charge won't like that. But what's more, we're alone and relatively helpless. Don't get me wrong, we can pack a punch if we have to. But our only ships are worn down, and the repairs over the past few centuries have been so jury-rigged that trying to get them back to any kind of combat capability will be nearly as hard as building a new ship. Most of our population are civilians, and won't want anything to do with a war. Especially with the repopulation effort going on. If we keep up this rate, ten or fifteen years from now, nearly two thirds of all humans will be children. Most of the adults will be necessary to raise and care for the kids. Another healthy percentage is too mentally unstable to be reliable in a combat situation. So what's to stop the Batarians from just invading Gellix and taking us over like they did a hundred years ago? The Council? They won't give a shit. Hell, they'd probably be glad if we were wiped out, considering all the trouble we're causing."

"Paedru, we come here to _relax._ We all know all of that- you're not the only one who's been studying these Council idiots. We're trying to have an evening away from all the plots, conspiracies, and murders that have sprung up since we left the Void."

Hurtun sighed, and gave a sad smile. "I haven't relaxed in nearly two years, Ethel. I've barely slept since we got to Gellix. Do you know how much I've got to do if all of our plans are going to work? I've got to keep the shrinks from killing all of us, keep _us_ from killing everybody else, make sure that the Council idiots learn to take us seriously while simultaneously making sure that they don't do anything _too_ stupid, run the Society with Carr, help President Midjel with the new government..."

"We get the point, Paedru. But _we_ would rather not have to deal with any of that right now. If you truly can't relax, why do some work? Take care of a few trivial issues that'll get in the way if you don't do them. That way you can do _something,_ but not have to worry about it too much."

Hurtun shrugged. "I might as well, I guess. I don't have the luxury of sitting around all day in a nice comfy cell like some of us do."

"I resent that!" Washington said, but he was grinning. "I'd much rather be out there working. But you know how it is... Mentally unsound and all that. And they're trying to limit my ability to work on the fun stuff so that you lot can ask me what my notes are about before I finish going 'round the bend."

"Trust me, we need all the help we can get," Andrus said. "Your notes are... well, insane. You know you once said that a specific rune array had to have a live cat inside it? A rune array that doesn't _do_ anything?"

"Wait, you haven't been using the cat? Then of _course_ it didn't do shit! The cat's a blood sacrifice, you idiot!"

"But the runes aren't designed for a sacrifice! They're not designed for _anything,_ as far as we can tell- they just..."

Hurtun grinned as he left his friend's cell, then paused. _Zwanzon._ He'd been so busy lately he'd been forgetting to visit her! Quickly, he rushed out of the room to the "Brain Closet" and punched in the code that would let him talk to his old mentor.

" _Finally!"_ Zwanzon's electronic voice said, sounding slightly hurt. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

"I'm _so_ sorry, Nanji." Hurtun said as he sank into the chair by the console. "It's just been so _busy._ Professors and sorcerers are going insane left and right, the shrinks are starting to get proactive, and we had to practically shove a grimoire into some idiot Asari's pocket when she stole the fucking _decoy_ instead of the real thing. Half the damned security system was turned off, and she managed to find the decoy. For Lovecraft's sake, how she got to be one of the Council's top spies when she can't tell her ass from her elbow, I'll never know."

"Why were you giving an Asari a grimoire at all? I thought you were trying to keep that info out of their hands at all costs?"

Hurtun shook his head. "It was a heavily censored copy of the _Cthäat Aquadingen_. The only thing they'll be able to get out of it is how to summon a Shoggoth. The Council currently thinks that all of this talk about magic is just an act, and the University is just hiding a Prothean beacon. We're trying to convince them that our tech really is incredibly fucking dangerous. We haven't been able to get any agents in their space, and our bugs wore off ages ago, so we don't have any accurate information, but we know that they got their hands on some communications tech and a TV. Unless their scientists are a hell of a lot more mentally flexible than Humans are, that should've been enough to convince them not to mess with our tech. Instead they sent in one of their best agents to get whatever she could get her hands on." His face twisted in displeasure. "Well, we realized she was going to get her hands on _something,_ so we decided to make sure it would work to our advantage. It was simple enough. Feed her informant some line about how to steal the secret to our energy tech- as if they'd have the stomach for it- and then put the book there and turn off most of the security. Except somebody forgot to take the decoy out of the vault."

"And when they finally get a team to stay sane long enough to summon a Shoggoth, you can say 'I told you so.' That about it?" Zwanzon asked.

"More or less, yeah. We also get to make them answer all kinds of questions about where they got a copy of that book, too. A few other things, as well. It depends on how it all plays out."

"Sounds fun. So what was this abut Professors going insane?"

"Oh. That." Hurtun grimaced. "Everybody's getting so excited about the Mass Effect stuff that they're being careless. If they were just studying the Mass Effect, that'd be fine. But that shit's so straight forward we had it figured out in about a month. It was hardly a challenge, after working on Lovecraftian principles for so long. And now we're trying to combine the two. But the damned idiots are so excited they ignore, or even subvert, all the safety practices and work limits. We had one kid- an Assistant Professor, barely crazy at all- supposedly _steal_ a copy of the Necronomicon and _lock himself in his apartment with it._ Poor bastard barely lasted a weekend before he was trying to kill us all. He's not even worth keeping as a brain-in-a-jar, now. And this is happening all the time. We've lost nearly a tenth of the organization in less than a year."

"Has it occurred to you that something else might be at work here?" Zwanzon asked. "Maybe somebody _wants_ Professors to go bonkers for some reason? Because this isn't adding up. The Professors are smart. They're all a little crazy, but they know how to do this stuff safely. And you told me last time that security had gone up drastically. I'd assume you'd also be trying to prevent these things, yet they keep happening."

"That's what I'm starting think too, actually," Paedru agreed. "I think somebody's planning something, and trying to cull our ranks. That kid shouldn't have had any access to the Necronomicon _._ He wasn't nearly senior enough to be working out of it at all. And he managed to steal it? I think it was planted in his room, where he would see it and get lost in it. Gives me more shit to worry about. Not openly, of course. If anybody finds out about this possibility, the shit'll hit the fan, make no mistake. And you _know_ I'm not the only person who's getting suspicious."

"The Psychiatrists." Zwanzon, had she still had a body, would have nodded knowingly.

"Right in one. Like I said, they're starting to put up the heat. Asking questions, and things. So far, nobody's been retired who shouldn't have been, but it's only a matter of time, if we can't figure out what's going on and put a stop to it. And, of course, I'd rather figure it out before they do, so we can keep what little freedom we have. But if it comes down to it, I'll work willingly with them, if they can put a stop to this. It's hurting our operations severely, and..."

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 **West Side, Chicago, Gellix**

 **~7:00 PM, 15 October 1989 Post Escape**

 **10 Months After First Contact**

Hurase Curtez sighed and took a sip of his beer. It was the quiet part of the day, when he'd gotten off work, but Mishall hadn't yet, and Rubi was still at the after-school daycare. He had time to enjoy a beer and a smoke (both products had been resurrected shortly after Humanity's arrival in Gellix, and had proved to be quite popular), and a movie or a sim, or some of the new Citadel shows. Today, though, he had opted for something a bit more serious, and was carefully perusing his copy of _The Works and Prophecies of H.P. Lovecraft_ when there was a knock at the door.

He carefully marked his page, and got up to see who his visitor was. Opening the door, he had to force down a shudder of revulsion at the sight of an adult Asari, a Turian male, and a young Asari girl who looked to be about the same age as Rubi.

"May I help you?" he asked hesitantly.

"Hello!" the Asari said cheerfully. "I'm Tathamere, and this is my husband Vocus, and our little girl, Myrassphea. We've just moved into the neighborhood from off planet, and we're going around introducing ourselves to our new neighbors."

"Not that any of them seem very happy to see us," the Turian added angrily. "We've gotten everything from screams to outright threats, and hardly any civil conversation from you Humans."

Hurase frowned. He wasn't particularly fond of Asari either, but...

"Well," he said hesitantly, "I'm not surprised that people aren't excited about seeing you... You might want to be a little more careful about introducing yourself. Especially if you bring your child."

"And just why should we do that?" Vocus challenged.

The frown deepened, and Hurase had more trouble than he would have liked to admit saying the next sentence. "Maybe you should come in, and I'll explain."

Vocus looked as if he would object, but Tathamere nodded. "That sounds like a good idea," she said, less cheerful than before. "I _have_ gotten a lot of ugly looks from Humans since we moved here."

Hurase led the family in, and gestured towards the couch. "If you like, I could put on an old movie for... Myrissafa?" he asked hesitantly, and the couple laughed.

"Myrassphea," Tathamere said. "Just call her Myrass."

"Well, I could put on a movie for Myrass in here while we talk in the library. It might take a while."

"That would be wonderful."

Hurase typed a few keys on his omnitool, and the ancient _Mary Poppins_ came on the vidscreen, then he led the couple into his private study.

It was smaller than the living room, with two comfortable chairs, and a single bookshelf with a few ancient volumes, and some newer ones that had come off the recently built printing press. Hurase excused himself for a moment, and went to get another chair from the kitchen. When he returned, to his horror, the Asari had opened his prized copy of _The Works and Prophecies,_ and was leafing through the pages.

"Don't touch that!" he almost shouted, then caught himself, and apologized profusely. "I'm terribly sorry. I... It's just, that's one of the only original copies in existence. It was made on Gaia, before we left the Milky Way altogether. It's been in my family for centuries. An ancestor of mine came across it during the Flight, he never would say where, and we've been keeping it safe for the past five or six hundred years."

Vocus looked skeptical, but Tathamere seemed fascinated. "That's incredible! This book is two thousand years old? Really? And who is this Lovecraft? I've heard Humans talk about him, and they seem to think he's some sort of god or something."

Hurase shook his head as he reverently placed the book back on the shelf.

"He wasn't a god. He was a Prophet. The first Prophet, actually. He wrote stories. He thought that was all they were- stories. And so did Humanity, for a long time. And then some of the things in his stories started to happen. Not all of them, thankfully, and they weren't very accurate, but enough of the details were right that we started to look to his Works, and the Works of those who came after him, for advice. And that's why you're having trouble with Humans." He picked up his copy of _The Works and Prophecies,_ the copy that had been printed only a few months ago and was meant to be handled, and turned to "The Shadow Over Innsmouth." "Here. It's best if you read this, first. It should answer some of your questions."

Hurase sat in silence for a while as the couple put their heads together and read the book between them. He watched their expressions as they read the story of how the unnamed narrator investigated the legends of the city of Innsmouth, how the man learned from old Zadok about the Deep Ones, the species of amphibian creatures who would interbreed with Humans, but the hybrid offspring would be Deep Ones when they were fully grown. He watched as they read with fascination and horror of the narrator's discovery that _he_ was one of the Deep Ones' children, and his subsequent descent into madness and Cultism as he embraced the transformation into one of the horrid fish-people. When they were done, they looked up at him. Again, their expressions and thoughts were clearly different. Vocus was sneering, and looked as if he were going to laugh. Tathamere seemed to be caught between horror and thoughtfulness.

"Was this one of the stories that came true?" she asked, and Vocus snorted.

"Only partially, thank Lovecraft." Hurase said, as he began to explain. This was taught to every Human child, and he had taken even more interest than most, and done his own research into the ancient history of Humanity. "When the Pnakotic Manuscripts were discovered in the late twenty-first century AD, and then the Necronomicon a few years later, people began to realize that Lovecraft's stories were coming true. They were terrified. The world was going to end. Cthulhu and Nyarlathotep and the other Great Old Ones and Outer Gods were going to rise, and destroy us all. The Derlethians taught that Nodens would save us, and people began flocking to them, but not everybody was willing to put blind faith in that. Not when Lovecraft himself taught that Humanity was alone, and all we could hope to do was hide. So expeditions were sent out to find the places in the Mythos. R'yleh was there. Y'qaa was in ruins, but there. Yian was absent, but it was thought that it might be in another dimension anyway. Ib was there, and destroyed, but Sarnath was missing entirely. And Pth'thya-l'yi was there, and inhabited. It wasn't a big city, like it was in the story- just a small town. But that was enough. The Deep Ones existed, and they would seek to wake Cthulhu if they could. They were killed to the last. Anybody with the slightest taint of Deep One blood was suspect, and put under supervision. If they began to show signs of the transformation, they were quietly assassinated. But even so, we were never truly free of them. Small communities of them would pop up from time to time, and a few of them got big enough to cause problems. We didn't finally get rid of them until the Escape, when we scanned every single human being who got on the Fleet. Nothing got on undetected, and the Deep Ones haven't made any reappearances since we left Gaia."

"And that's why Humans don't like Asari," Tathamere said quietly. "We seem like the Deep Ones."

"Exactly. You interbreed with other species, and your children are always Asari. You're _all_ sorcerers, or something very like them, you can read minds, and you live for a thousand years. How could we not be reminded of the Deep Ones? If anything, you're even _worse,_ since you can use magic and read minds. At first, nobody realized all this. We were too excited about getting a home to do anything more than just skim the Codex. But as we've settled in, and gotten used to things, people have calmed down, and started thinking. And now they're scared that we've got a whole new species of Deep Ones helping to run the galaxy, or secretly ruling it entirely."

The three of them sat in silence for a while. Vocus clearly didn't believe a word of the history Hurase had presented him with, but Tathamere seemed more thoughtful. Eventually, though, the silence came to an end with the sound of Hurase's omnitool beeping. He glanced at it, and stood.

"Well, I've got to go get Rubi from daycare. You can borrow that book, if you want to read some more of Lovecraft's work. I've got a copy on my 'tool. And..." he hesitated. "I guess we could chat later. I'm not going to lie- Asari _do_ make me uncomfortable. But you don't seem like Cultists or Cthulhu worshipers. Not the handful of you that I've met. And we're all in the same galaxy, so I guess Humans and Asari will just have to get used to each other."

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 **Ward 3, Washington DC, Gellix**

 **~1:00 AM, 16 October 1989 Post Escape**

 **10 Months After First Contact**

Rejina Sherp pulled her coat close as she hurried through the streets of Humanity's new capital. Gellix was a cold world, and her Society jacket wasn't made for this kind of environment.

Shadows loomed out of the darkness, and a part of her cursed this new planet. On the Fleet, everything had been so well regulated and safe. Here, though... there was _crime_ now. The Psychiatrists had lost their iron hold on Humanity, and some of the nastier elements were taking advantage. More to the point, not everybody on the planet was Human. If they had been, Rejina would have been safe. Nobody in their right mind attacked a Human wearing the violet coat of a fully fledged Sorcerer of the Eldritch Society. If they believed in magic, that was. Aliens, unfortunately, didn't believe in magic, as a rule. Fucking idiots. And Gellix, though a Turian colony, had been more of a giant slum than anything. People went to Gellix when they had nothing, or they'd been chased out of civilized space. Which meant that the aliens here were generally nastier and more prone to do something stupid than those on other planets.

Luck, it would seem, was not with Rejina that night. A group of four, two Turians, an Asari, and a Human, were standing around somebody on the ground. One of the Turians was partially disrobed, and Rejina's eyes sharpened as she caught the figure of a female Quarian, forced to the ground in front of him. Rejina swore viciously, and drew her dagger from its sheath, causing it to flash brightly in the lamplight, catching the attention of one of the assailants.

"Shit!" cried the Human, who took off running as Rejina approached the group. The other three turned to see what had scared him off, and, spotting her, grinned.

"Will you look at this? Another little slut to play with!" sneered the Turian who had been about to rape the girl.

"Here's how this is going to go." Rejina began. "You-" she pointed at the clothed Turian, "I'm going to set on fire. You-" she pointed to the would-be rapist "will spend the rest of your life seeing visions of the things from the Void every time you close your eyes. So you're in for a rough week. You-" she pointed to the Asari, "are going to come with me quietly, and I won't harm you in the slightest."

The three aliens laughed, until Rejina slashed her dagger across her palm and began chanting. They had mixed reactions to that.

The clothed Turian swore. "What the fuck is this bitch doing?"

His friend laughed. "These lunatics who believe in magic, remember? She probably thinks she's casting some sort of spell."

The Asari, for her part, said nothing, simply watching as light which shouldn't have ever been seen by mortals, with a dark, oily color impossible to describe in any Human or alien language, began to swirl around Rejina's hands. A moment later, and Rejina's first victim screamed as he burst into flames. The Turian panicked, battering at the flames with his hands, crying for help, and running into an alley before he tripped and fell over. The scent of burning flesh filled the air as he struggled to get to his feet, before he slowly stopped moving.

As the alien's corpse burned to ash, Rejina spoke, snapping the two remaining aliens out of their stunned inaction. The strange, impossible light swirled and spun around her with every word, and all three of the aliens shuddered at the black pits of her eyes. "You'll get _much_ worse than that if you run, bitch. The asshole can go. I've already finished with him. But you, I want to have a conversation with. I've been trying to track down a willing Asari for a while now, and you look like you'll do nicely. If you're willing, then I have a... business proposition for you."

The Turian, rather than running, dashed at Rejina, hands balled into fists. "You BITCH!"

Rejina sighed, and made a gesture with her bloodied hand. The light lashed out towards the Turian, piercing him through the skull. Immediately, the alien screamed and fell to the ground, balling up in a fetal position and crying out at the top of his lungs.

"Now. You," Rejina gestured towards the Asari "are going to come with me. Don't do anything stupid, and you'll live. If you do, you will be offered a job that very few _Humans_ get. Understand?"

Unfortunately, the Asari decided she would prefer to do something stupid. Biotics flared around her hands, and the blue flare of a Stasis field shot towards Rejina, who gestured with her bloodsoaked hand once more. Suddenly, impossibly, the Stasis field reversed its course, heading instead towards the would-be rapist and paralyzing her. Rejina approached the Asari, the oily light flaring around her.

"Now, I'm going to be nice, and pretend you did the smart thing and came with me quietly. If you so much as twitch, though, I will set you on fire. The Society has need of Asari, but I don't have any particular objection to just killing a rapist like you. The only reason I haven't already burned you to a crisp is that you can do a hell of a lot more good alive than dead. So I will repeat. You will come with me. You will come peacefully. In return for your cooperation, I will let you live, and you will be offered a _very_ important job. Do you understand?"

The Asari nodded, the Stasis having worn off by now, and Rejina approached the Quarian, kneeling down and talking gently. "Come on. Up you go. We need to get you to somebody who can make sure you haven't been infected."

At the word "infected," the Quarian girl snapped out of her terrified stupor and into a panic. "Oh keelah! My suit! They ripped my suit! I'm going to die! Keelah, I don't want to die!"

"You're not going to die, sweetheart. I'll make sure you get treated. But you have to come with me, okay?"

The Quarian girl nodded, and stood shakily.

"Good. Now follow me, okay? Don't worry about her, she's not going to hurt you. Not if she knows what's good for her."

The three of them walked in silence for a while until they approached a large blue building with an insignia depicting a scarlet cross over a white circle.

"There's the hospital," Rejina said to the Quarian. "Tell them to bill the Society. They'll take care of any infections you may have, alright?"

"Thank you..." the Quarian muttered, before rushing to the Hospital.

Rejina glanced at the Asari, then strode off, leading the woman in the direction of the Society of's headquarters. When they arrived, she buzzed the intercom.

"Welcome to the Society of Lovecraftian Art and Science," said a bored voice. "How may I help you?"

"This is Neophyte Rejina Sherp, personal ID 4231C. I've found an Asari who may be willing to help with the power systems."

The voice perked up. "Oh? An Asari? Come on in, then. I'll have the guards escort you to the main lab as soon as you're through security. She'll have to undergo scanning and all that shit, but they've been trying to get an Asari to help with that project for so long that she'll probably be rushed through as quickly as possible."

"I hope so. She certainly seems like the kind of person we've been looking for."

"Good! Good. Come on in, then."

The intercom went silent, and the doors opened, and Rejina ushered the Asari into the security alcove beyond, and explained the security procedures.

"They'll want a blood sample and a fingerprint. Then you'll have to be scanned and all that shit. Then they'll do a psy scan. A bunch more shit like that, and they'll give you a bracelet. You won't be able to take it off yourself, and it'll stay on as long as you're working with us. Any questions?"

The Asari shook her head, and Rejina smiled, then punched her code into the keypad by the door, pricked her finger on the proffered needle, and pressed her ring finger on the scanner. The doors swung open to reveal a pair of men with the scarlet eyes of a Tager, and a woman in pants and a t-shirt, with the slightly unkempt look of a Professor or Assistant Professor and a clipboard in her hand.

The woman glanced in Rejina's direction, then moved toward the Asari.

"What is your name, Asari?"

"Galanphea Coniza."

"You'll be coming with me. If you do anything stupid, these two will eviscerate you. You will answer my questions honestly, and I will be checking your name, history, and DNA against the official records. Is that understood?"

Rejina smirked slightly as the two Tagers grinned, one of them showing a row of sharklike teeth as he did so. By the end of the night, this poor bitch would wish she _had_ done something to provoke her guards.

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Galanphea's eyes widened as the two Humans smiled at her, and she nodded vigorously.

The Human female nodded, then turned around and began walking swiftly, obviously expecting Galanphea to follow. As they walked, the Human asked questions. Some of them were normal, and very much like any normal job interview. Others were almost disturbing.

"When was the last time you committed a crime which would, under Gellix's laws, warrant the death penalty?" or "Have you ever tortured a sentient being?" and things like that. From these questions, Galanphea gathered that the work she would be doing was extremely illegal and highly immoral. She smirked slightly at the thought. These Humans claimed to be open and fair to everyone, and hold the moral high ground, and then one of their government's top organizations went and hired people to kill and torture.

During the questioning, she was subjected to a variety of tests and scans. As the Human Rejina had told her, Galanphea was required to give a blood sample and fingerprints. A device of some sort was waved along her body, and at one point she was locked in a large box for several minutes while all sorts of bizarrely colored lights wavered above and around her.

Eventually, a grinning Human with darker skin than the others and some sort of device over his right eye came into the room.

"This is Professor Bridjess," explained the woman who had been examining her so far. "He will be administering the next test, as it is considerably more specialized. Go with him."

Galanphea obeyed, and followed the man into a room with what she recognized as a surgical table, surrounded by various machines. In each corner of the room stood a Human in uniform, holding a heavy looking gun.

"If you will just lie down on the table, that would be wonderful, and then we can get started," Professor Bridjess said happily.

Galanphea hesitated, and glanced towards the door. The Humans who had been guarding her were on either side of it, and the door was made of heavy steel. In the back of her mind, she realized that something was wrong with this situation.

"I just need to check the pattern of the eezo nodes in your brain. It's a simple procedure, but you'll need to be strapped down. Come on now. Don't be shy," the Professor explained once he noticed her hesitation.

Galanphea nodded. If these people had wanted to kill her, they could have done so many times. The Human who had captured her had clearly wanted to, but said that this job was too important for her to let her die. So obviously they weren't going to harm her, right?

A few minutes later, she'd been strapped down to the table, while the Professor bustled around her, humming merrily. She nearly jumped when he began rubbing something on her arm, and let out a yelp when he stabbed her with a needle without warning.

"Don't worry, just an anesthetic. Ordinarily we'd use a paralyzation or sleep spell, but we can't use magic on you for this operation, so chemistry it is! Wonderful stuff chemistry. Did you know that..." he trailed off into a series of words Galanphea couldn't understand, until the door opened up and the Human who had originally captured her walked in, accompanied by the woman who had given the examinations.

She was clearly tired, and was leaning slightly on her escort as she began to speak.

"Hello, Galanphea. We never got properly introduced. My name is Rejina Sherp. I asked for permission to explain what we're about to do to you, since I found you about to rape that poor girl. You see, there are four governments in Citadel space that practice the death penalty. The Batarian Hegemony, the Turian Hierarchy, the Volus Protectorate, and the Gellix Republic." The woman gave a terrifying grin, and Galanphea's mind panicked as her body refused her commands to move. "Do you know how magic works, Galanphea? It's complicated, but a simple explanation is that it uses life. The easiest way to harness that is through blood. Blood, especially the blood of ensouled creatures, is extremely valuable for enchantment. Of course, we can't just harvest people's blood without their permission, and blood donations will only get you so far, since most of it has to be used in medical procedures. So we use people like you. Rapists, murderers, sadists, people who have committed crimes which would ordinarily be punishable by death. As far as anybody outside this building will ever know, you've already been executed for several counts of aiding and abetting a rape. As far as most of the Society knows, we're harvesting your blood for enchantment. But neither of those is going to happen. See, blood is crude. It works, but there's a loss. Not all of the potential power is harnessed. Ordinarily, the loss is slight enough that it doesn't matter, and the alternatives are expensive enough that they aren't worth it. But Asari are special. You live for over a thousand years. Do you have any _idea_ how much life that is? How much energy? We can get a _lot_ of enchanting done with that. Just harvesting your blood would give us a fraction of it. So, you get to live your life out to its full potential. And every single moment of that, we're going to be harvesting you. It's painful as hell, of course. But pain doesn't matter to you, does it? Why else would you have helped those bastards on Illium? Or that Krogan psycho? Or any of the others? It almost seems like you _enjoy_ pain. So this should be a very pleasant life for you. Isn't that nice? You get to do good for the world, and you get to enjoy it. For over _nine hundred years."_


	6. Happy Happy Shoggoth Times

**The Black Box, The Citadel**

 **~ 9:90, 23 Sashellsy 2032 Galactic Standard**

 **16 Months After First Contact**

Dimort coughed slightly, and Tevos and Erasnion paused their argument and turned toward him.

"Significant development has occurred. Humans possibly telling truth about magic." He held up a hand to stop them from interrupting him. "Recieved report from STG some time ago. Had successfully recovered several samples of Human technology. Researchers all insane."

Tevos and Erasnion simply stared, so Dimort continued.

"Items in question were simple househeld items. Communications system. Entertainment device. Ebook. All underwent thorough and all-inclusive decontamination process, due to past problems. No chance of bioweapon. STG reports researchers have now had three suicides, one coma, one violent attack, and two researchers simply drool or only say gibberish. Only three researchers out of ten remain even partially functional. All report 'impossible geometry' and colors with 'bizarre smells.' Are no longer able to communicate fully. Have been dismissed from STG, and put under medical supervision."

Erasnion seemed much calmer now, and Tevos looked almost fearful as Dimort continued speaking.

"Situation gets worse. Station received copy of book stolen by Spectre Vasir. Began studying. Were extremely careful, due to previous experiences and Human warnings. Station went silent several weeks ago. STG investigated. Teams sent in went silent, but drone was able to transmit following video first."

He manipulated his omnitool, and a video came up on the main vidscreen.

"What in the Goddess's name is _that?_ " Tevos whispered. On the screen was a massive, gelatinous black form, constantly shifting and moving as eyes surfaced and disappeared on the being, and hands, mouths, and other, less identifiable things formed in the creature's nebulous mass. The creature moved, amoeba-like, in the direction of the camera, and a repetitive cry of "Tekeli-li!" could be heard.

There was a scream from off camera, and the sound of weapons fire began. The Councilors could see the bullets impacting the monster, and seemingly going straight through it without any effect. The beast moved forward, closer to the camera, and the screen went blank.

"Drone was presumably destroyed at this point. No further data retrieved. Creature is identified in Human religious texts as a Shoggoth. Religious texts describe creature perfectly. Even identify chant of 'Tekeli-li'. Has disturbing implications. Require verification. Regrettably, have been unable to find further information. Suggest contacting Humans for aid."

"Is that a joke?" Erasnion asked. "We sent one of our top agents to steal an artifact from the Humans, despite their warnings about it. And when the lunatics turn out to be _right,_ you want to just tell them about it?"

"Have no other options. Reports suggest Spectre Vasir sold multiple copies of book. At least two other reports suggest Shoggoth presence, and many others imply insanity. Humans only species with knowledge to handle threat. Single Shoggoth was able to eliminate three STG teams and entire research station."

"Then blow the station from orbit, for the Spirits' sake!"

"Not acceptable. Station contains valuable data on many topics. Represents millions of credits of equipment and supplies. Possible data on Shoggoths and other Lovecraftian creatures. Also, would raise awkward questions. Humans will make demands and accusations, but intelligent enough to keep quiet publicly."

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 **Councilor's Offices, The Citadel**

 **~13:50, 26 Sashellsy 2032 Galactic Standard**

 **16 Months After First Contact**

"You summoned a Shoggoth." Midjel's tone was deathly calm. "Despite all our warnings, you stole a copy of one of our most dangerous grimoires and you summoned a Shoggoth. And now you want us to clean up your mess. Do you have any _idea_ how hard it is to kill a Shoggoth? The kinds of resources it takes? How many lives will be lost in the effort?"

"No. Humanity neglected to provide that kind of information when you warned us against working with Lovecraftian principles," Tevos said, attempting to do some damage control.

"That's because we didn't think you'd do anything stupid enough to _need_ the information. The only _Humans_ who have ever done something like this were raving madmen. You, however, are supposedly sane. And yet you stole the _Cthäat Aquadingen_ out of a high security vault, and _told_ your researchers to follow its directions. Fine. You want to know how to deal with Lovecraftian Horrors. Fine then. You run. You run like hell, and pray that whatever you've done was minor enough that it will only take a small army to kill. If it's bigger than that, you nuke it from orbit, or blow up the solar system, depending on exactly what you've summoned. What, exactly, did you think we've spent the past two thousand years running from?"

"We had heard your stories, and assumed that the Outer God spoken of in your legends had been left far behind, if not killed outright by the destruction of your solar system."

Midjel snorted. "Bullshit. You thought we were lunatics. If I had to guess, you think we've only been running for a couple of centuries, and you probably think we were running from some sort of alien race that invaded. You didn't believe a word we told you. If you had, you wouldn't have been willing to be anywhere on the same fucking planet as that book. Believe it or not, we aren't stupid. You've been quietly telling everybody that we're just a bunch of religious fanatics, and the Society is a scam. Sure, the official codex entry tells our side of the story, but you've been careful to make sure everybody knows that it was just to humor us so that we wouldn't get offended and make a fuss. Don't look so surprised, we've gotten thousands of immigrants from Council space in the past year and a half. The idea that we wouldn't have heard what you were telling people was even more idiotic than telling it to them in the first place."

"What would you have had us do?" Erasnion asked angrily. "You came out of nowhere, claiming to be running from a malevolent deity for longer than the Council has even existed, and speaking of magical powers and science that drives you insane. Did you truly expect us to believe that you _weren't_ religious fanatics? And despite your claims, we _still_ have no evidence of your supposed magical powers! Do you truly expect us to take your claims for granted, and present them to the galaxy as truth? We'd be laughed out of our offices! The Council of Fools, they'd call us!"

"Did it even occur to you to _ask_ for evidence?" the Human countered. "Or did you just take it for granted that we couldn't provide it, or that it would be faked somehow?"

There was a pause, then Tevos spoke. " _Can_ you provide evidence for your claims?"

"As a matter of fact we can. Carr, if one of your agents would be so kind as to perform a demonstration."

The other Humans in the room, who had remained silent so far, glanced at Carr. Hurtun shivered, and spoke up. "I would like to be bound and sedated before he does, ma'am. Seeing a Tager transform tends to be… exciting."

"I agree with the Dean's evaluation. The stimulation and fear provided by the phenomenon has been known to induce psychotic episodes in those prone to them, and even in the mentally healthy. I must insist that Dean Hurtun be sedated before we proceed."

Midjel nodded. "Fair enough. The last thing we need is a diplomatic incident on top of this."

"Very good, then. Lieutenants, if you will."

The Psychiatrist Lieutenants proceeded to cuff and bind Hurtun, before injecting him with a powerful incapacitating agent.

The Councilors watched skeptically, still doubtful that the Dean was truly insane, as these steps were taken.

When the Professor had been bound tightly, and his head lolled to the side, Carr turned to one of the unnamed men who had accompanied him as security.

"Agent Dread, if you would kindly transform, and provide a demonstration of your abilities. I will be your target, as the others here are utterly unfamiliar with the sensation, and would be unwilling to undergo the procedure anyway. Do whatever you wish, but do be kind enough to keep it at least somewhat dignified, if you would," Carr said as he took off his coat, tie, and shirt.

The man, Agent Dread, grinned a little too widely, and nodded. The other Humans stepped back, with the exception of Carr, who simply stood patiently, and Hurtun, who was effectively unconscious. The Councilors stared at Carr, and then at the man he had spoken to. They turned their attention to him just in time to see the "phenomenon" begin.

The man's muscles began to bulge and twist, growing and stretching. His body stretched out grotesquely as flesh began to melt, showing the bare muscle beneath. His shoulders exploded, as grotesque, skeletal wings protruded from his back, and his hands sprouted vicious looking claws. A few moments later, the Human was gone, and in his place stood a three and a half meter, winged and clawed monstrosity, covered in skinless muscle, bone, and veins.

"Agent Dread is one of the most powerful Tagers in the Society. He is what is known as a Bloodgod," Carr explained to the cowering Councilors as the beast stepped toward him. "He has the innate ability to reshape flesh and bone as he desires, without regard for any biological laws. I have consented to a demonstration of this ability. I do not advise it for mortals, as the sensation is most unpleasant."

The monster gave a terrifying grin, and stepped toward Carr, then placed a hand on the Human's back. Flesh twisted and flowed like molten wax, and a pair of black, batlike wings sprouted from Carr's back, while an extra pair of arms came out of the man's torso, ending in, rather than hands, a pair of incisors that looked as if they could cut through solid steel.

Carr grimaced throughout the procedure, and let out a grunt at one point. The other Humans were all looking away, but the Councilors stared with horrified fascination, unable to turn their gazes away from the impossible feat that was occurring before them. When the arms and wings were fully formed, the beast stepped back, and Carr spoke once more.

"You seem to be feeling creative today, Agent Dread. You have outdone yourself," he said calmly as he examined his new arms, and outstretched his wings. "I actually find myself liking this form. Perhaps we shall revisit this at a later date. But for now, I think you should return to your Human form, and fix me before Councilor Tevos has an apoplectic fit."

A few more moments of horror passed, and the two Humans were back to normal.

Several minutes went by in silence as the Councilors processed what they had just seen, before Dimort spoke.

"Fascinating!" he said, apparently having gotten over his terror and now indulging his scientific interest. "Manipulation of Human phenome. On genetic level, obviously. At will? Require knowledge of genetics? Or simply will it to shift, and genes change to match desires?"

Agent Dread spoke for the first time. His voice was deep, and grated on the mortals present as if it were some terrifying sound from their most primal fears. And, behind the horror of his voice, he sounded amused.

"I tell the body what to do. It obeys, whether it likes it or not. Sometimes the flesh fights me, but it always has to obey. It is my slave, and it will do as I tell it to. Why would I care to understand how my slave obeys my orders, so long as it does as I wish? There are no limits to my power. I can use a single drop of blood to create creatures out of your deepest horrors. I can remove the blood from a being, and it will still live. I can turn a human cell into a bioweapon that will destroy all life in the galaxy. Flesh is my slave, and I am its god."

Dimort was able to limit his response to the monster's voice to a single shudder, and his fascination was still evident.

"Would like to perform experiments, if possible. Verify claims, and study methods. Much could be learned, if you would consent. Would provide generous compensation."

Agent Dread chuckled, and the sound sent shivers through Humans and Councilors alike. "If you can find a way to make it interesting for me, I will perform some demonstrations for you."

Carr spoke up. "At any rate, you have your evidence. We are neither fanatics nor madmen. At least, not in the sense that you believed us to be."

At this, Tevos glanced at Dean Hurtun. If everything the Humans claimed was true, that meant that this man truly had killed and eaten Humans. And yet they allowed him to live, simply because he was a valuable researcher.

As if reading her thoughts, Harper spoke. "Dean Hurtun does not have any control over his actions during his psychotic episodes. Steps have been taken to ensure that he will not harm others, and it has been some time since he has seriously harmed a sentient being. Even if he had not, execution would be to murder an innocent, but mentally challenged, Human being. An innocent Human being who has done a great deal of good for the Human race as a whole."

"INNOCENT?" Erasnion burst out. "He _eats people!_ You call that innocent?"

Midjel looked at Erasnion harshly. "That information is _highly_ classified. How did you come across it?"

"What on Palaven does it _matter?_ What matters is that you are harboring and protecting a dangerous psychopath, and made him a _top member of your government!"_

"As Dr. Harper pointed out, the Dean is not in control of his actions during his psychotic breaks. Legally, he is mentally incompetent for the duration of those episodes, and only for the duration of those episodes. Even if he were not, he has not committed any crimes since the Republic became an Associate Government, and therefore any murders he may have committed would be out of your jurisdiction. Now where did you get the information regarding his specific psychoses? The Republic has not broken any Citadel laws or Conventions, and as such, the Council has no right to steal classified information."

"Spectres independent. Unrestricted by Council or local law, and have legal authority to act as they see fit."

"So a Spectre was responsible for the theft of the classified data?"

"Indeed."

"And have Spectres been known to perform assassinations against targets?"

"Yes…" Dimort sounded hesitant now.

"And have these assassinations been strictly limited to military or terrorist targets?"

Dimort remained silent.

"Very well, the Republic will be lodging a formal complaint regarding the lack of rules or regulations on the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch. We will also be launching an investigation regarding publicly accessible Spectre activity in the past, and make our findings known to the public."

Tevos spoke up. "Regardless, the activity of the Spectres is not the reason for this meeting. The problem at hand is the STG station and the Shoggoth present."

"Indeed. Though am confused as to existence of Shoggoth. According to Lovecraft writings, Shoggoths are made, not summoned. Why does book permit summoning?"

Carr answered this question. "As far as we have been able to determine, the vast majority of the species mentioned in Lovecraft's writings were either entirely fictional, or extradimensional. The Shoggoths and Elder Things are a perfect example. The information provided by the Prophecies is, in many cases, highly inaccurate. It has been theorized that this is because the Prophets were unaware that their stories had any accuracy at all, and their own imaginations garbled the Prophecies, and altered them to better fit the stories they were writing. So while the Elder Things and Shoggoths exist, they are not native to Earth, or even this dimension. More significantly, the things described, Shoggoths included, are often even more powerful or have very different powers than in the stories."

Dimort nodded. "Suspected as much. Good to have verification. How does one handle such beings?"

"As President Midjel said, it takes powerful mages, Tagers, or specially equipped soldiers to destroy such a being. It can be done, but most metaterrestrials are dangerous and powerful opponents. Shoggoths are not even particularly powerful, yet they provide a significant challenge to any mortal or Other force which attempts to bring them to heel."

"Most importantly," Midjel added, "You leave it to professionals. People who have trained for decades or centuries for specifically this kind of threat. If you send in anybody else, you're better off shooting them yourself, because every soldier sent in is a potential future Cultist. Humans have been training against these things for over two thousand years. If you want this Shoggoth killed, you'll need our help, and since you created this mess by stealing classified data, that's asking quite a lot. We will demand compensation for the stolen data, and for the resources required to destroy the being, and, more importantly, the lives which will doubtless be lost in our efforts to clean up your mess. Moreover, we will be _insisting_ on a public apology for your slander against the Human race and our practices, and a confession that Lovecraftian and Eldritch principles are, in fact, true and real, and extremely dangerous in the hands of the unwary. Is this understood?"

The Councilors nodded- this was all expected, and it had been agreed that the demands were actually quite reasonable.

"Good. Then let's get down to business…"

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 **Station 1d03a, Uncharted Space**

 **~2:35 AM, 12 June 1990**

 **16 Months After First Contact**

It was bored. It had been trapped in this metal cave for too long. Most of the toys it had found had stopped moving, and wouldn't move when it poked them. They must have broken. Maybe it had poked them too hard? Nothing in the old place had ever stopped moving like that. Things in the old place were always moving. Here, though, most things didn't move. And the ones that did move stopped when it poked them. It didn't like it when they stopped moving, but it had had to poke them to make them stop yelling. They hadn't been yelling at first, of course. They didn't make any noise at all while they were throwing tiny things at it. But when it had tried to talk to them, they'd all stopped throwing things and started yelling. Some of the toys had started throwing things again, and it didn't like that. It had poked those ones _very_ hard. Some of the others had just moved and yelled a lot for a long time. At first, the yelling had been fun. But eventually it got bored, and annoyed, and it poked the toys to make them stop, and they stopped moving. It must have poked them too hard. The last group of toys was its favorite. They were the ones that did what it told them to do, and called _it_ Li. It knew it was naughty to let them call it Li, but it enjoyed it so much that it didn't stop them.

There was a tremendous _crash,_ and the steel cave shook, and it could hear lots of noises. Maybe some new toys had arrived? Maybe they would play with it! It sped off in the direction of the crash, eager to find its new toys.

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"GO!"

Iban sprinted along with his squad, the rifle in his hands giving a pulsing blue glow. According to the Sergeant, this was only a fairly small Shoggoth, but it could have up to a hundred or so Cultists at its command, and it would have them placed throughout the station at strategic points. That was a big part of why the team had decided to enter through the roof, rather than any of the doors. The other reason was much more serious. The Shoggoth had had nearly two weeks to figure out the STGs programming language and put all kinds of viruses on the door's locking interface, and they did _not_ want an Eldritch virus on their shuttle. So they'd opted to simply blow the ceiling in and plug the vacuum with their shuttle. Crude, and not very stealthy, but effective. And when fighting a being as dangerous as a Shoggoth, effectiveness was what mattered.

Besides, the Council was footing the bill, and Command wanted the vids of the mission to be nice and impressive for the Citadel folks. So when a group of Salarians came around the corner, firing their weapons and shouting the Shoggoth's chant of "Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!" he made it a point to get a near miss, rather than actually killing the poor bastard. The bolt of electricity shot past the Salarian and struck some _very_ expensive looking equipment, causing it to explode spectacularly.

The resulting shrapnel took out two of the Salarians, and threw one of the survivors to the ground. Somebody else took out the one left standing, frying him to a crisp, and Xim took out the one on the ground.

Unfortunately, his little stunt seemed to have drawn every Cultist on the station right to them. They were mostly Salarians, but he saw a smattering of Quarians and a couple of Turians and Asari. More importantly, they all had guns.

Weapons fire erupted up and down the station, and Iban fired his weapon as quickly as the safety would allow, killing a Cultist with every shot. The scent of burning flesh would have nauseated him, had he been able to smell it through his helmet, and the eerie cries of the Cultists' chant grated on his nerves, making him want to yell it back at them.

Then, the cultists fell silent for a moment, before their cries picked up in pace and volume.

"We got incoming! The fucker's nearly here!" cried the Sergeant, and the Humans went into action. Grenades were tossed out, clearing the halls of Cultists for a moment, and in the interlude, a few small, almost invisible discs were thrown out into the hall their HUD showed Eldritch activity, obviously the Shoggoth, coming from. The discs adhered themselves to the floor, wall, and ceiling, while the Humans continued their preparations. Small devices were attached to a port on their rifles, and their glow increased brightness until it was almost blinding. A small circle was drawn in dried lamb's blood, and incenses were tossed into it and lit. The team's heavy, who had been staying out of the action, began charging up his gun until it made a dangerous hum.

The two mages who had come along slashed their palms, and began chanting at the same time as the beast rolled into sight. The Cultists renewed their attack, and Lersun went down in a spray of blood at the same time as everybody opened fire.

It started when the Shoggoth lumbered into range of one of the clear, plastic discs that had been thrown out, and was zapped with enough electricity to turn a man into a cinder. It let out a horrific scream, the Cultists crying out and clutching their hands to their heads, and lurched back onto another one of the discs, setting it off, too. That was the cue the team had been waiting for, and, as one, they pulled the triggers on their guns.

The hall turned white, blinding the unprotected Cultists, and filling the air with ozone as enough electricity to run a small town for a year was launched towards the Shoggoth. It let out its scream again, and rushed forward, slamming into an invisible wall at the Lamb's blood. The mages finished their chant, and more lightning burst from their hands, hitting the Shoggoth again.

The Shoggoth's scream was horrifying, and Xim screamed, firing his gun wildly and falling to the ground. His gun, with its burned out pack, overloaded and paralyzed him for a moment. A nearby squadmate drew his sidearm and shot Halt, killing him, then threw the gun to the ground to ready himself to attack the Shoggoth again.

While the Shoggoth split itself into two streams to get around the shield provided by the lamb's blood, the Humans removed the packs from their rifles and slammed in new ones, then fired again.

There was no scream this time, but the attack team felt it as the Eldritch monstrosity died. Two of them screamed, one grabbing her head as she fell to the ground, the other swinging his gun as a club at the nearest Human. Both were put down without hesitation.

The Cultists were out of the picture, lying motionless on the ground. Nonetheless, the team moved cautiously, carefully checking each body, shooting it, and moving on.

The Shoggoth and its Cult were dead, but there might still be surprises.


	7. Holy Shit! Magic!

Sorry about the delay. Excrement recently made physical contact with a hydro-electric powered oscillating air current distribution device, and I've been working my ass off to try and repair all the damage done by my various fuckups. I really, really, really shouldn't even be writing this, in fact. But I am, 'cause I'm a dumbass. So whatever. For future reference, I make it a point to leave regular status updates on my profile page. That includes the status of each story and my current state of being.

I'd like to give a shoutout to Emily, at fantasynamegenerators .com- I use her website for all of my stories, and highly recommend it if you have as much trouble coming up with names as I do. And I think I should reiterate how awesome GeneratedName has been, with his continued advice on the story. Go give The Human War a look- my discussions with GeneratedName about it were a large part of what led to my writing this story.

Lastly, a big thanks to that guy who went through and read and reviewed on every single one of my stories. That was pretty awesome. You should sign in/up, so that I can tell you how awesome you are personally, and respond to your reviews.

Oh, one more thing- I hope nobody objected to my use of their usernames. If you did, please let me know, and I'll take it out. If yours isn't in there, don't feel bad. I had to pick and choose (there wasn't a whelk's chance in a supernova I could use all of them), and I decided to mostly use the ones I could make puns out of.

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 **Council Chambers, The Citadel**

 **~10:00, 1 Irstop 2032 Galactic Standard**

 **16 Months After First Contact**

"When the Human Escape Fleet first came out of uncharted space near Epyrus, they told us what seemed to be an impossible tale," Tevos began as she looked out at the gathered Ambassadors, VIPs, and reporters. "They claimed that, over two thousand galactic years ago, their species had been attacked. Not by other Humans, not by a species of aliens, but by a single being, a literal god, which had been spoken of in Human legends and stories. This being, called Azhorra-Tha, slaughtered thirty-five billion Humans before the survivors, in an act of desperation, detonated their star and fled their home galaxy entirely. They had, they claimed, been fleeing from this god for two-thousand years now, almost all of that time spent in transit between the two galaxies. The tale spun by the surviving Humans got stranger, as they spoke of magic, of demons, and of scientific principles which drove their researchers insane, but allowed impossible feats. We, the Council, did not believe any of this tale. We supposed that they had had some civil war, or been invaded by an alien race, and the losing side of this war had fled after using weapons of mass destruction to buy themselves time. We supposed that these events had been, at most, a few centuries ago. More importantly, we supposed that the tales of Azhorra-Tha had been lies spread by the leadership, and the tales of magic and insanity had been spread by greedy scientists seeking to hoard the knowledge gained from a Prothean Beacon. Officially, we acknowledged the Humans' tale, and put their history in the Galactic Standard Information Codex. Unofficially, we spread our version of the story, which we supposed to be the truth."

Tevos's face took on a look of immense sadness as she continued speaking. "A few months ago, a research station working on new energy technology was attacked and taken over by a large force of terrorists. For various reasons, we requested a token force of aid from the Gellix Republic. To our surprise, and derision, we were provided with, in addition to conventional soldiers, a number of Human mages. The officer commanding this operation, who shall remain unnamed for security reasons, decided that this was the best way to learn what trickery the Humans passed off as magic, and they were sent into the field. To the commander's amazement, the Humans surpassed expectations, and performed feats which were patently impossible, such as creating monsters out of thin air, or launching lightning bolts from their bare hands." The crowd began muttering at this. Was it possible that these poor, misguided Humans were actually in the right all along? It seemed that the Council was saying as much, at the very least. "After the engagement, tests and experiments were performed. Firstly, the history provided by the Humans was, to our and their knowledge, completely accurate. Examinations have revealed that the ships in their fleet truly are over two thousand years old. Humans who had advanced their strange powers such that they have lifespans beyond even those of the Asari or the Krogan gave eyewitness accounts of the destruction of their homeworld. And, under strict and rigorous testing, they demonstrated impossible acts."

"I am here today to say that we, the Council, were wrong. Humans _can_ perform magic. It seems that the galaxy they come from is, or was, inhabited by many such creatures. Research suggests that this is due to an abundance of Dark Energy in their home galaxy, which wrought unseen changes upon Human biology. The principle is somewhat similar to that of biotics, but allows a far greater range of abilities. Unfortunately, like biotics, it is an ability which one is born with, and impossible to gain otherwise. The details of the ability are rather complex, and beyond my comprehension, but the summary is that the abilities displayed by Human sorcerers defy all conventional scientific knowledge, and…"

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Sergeant Harald Parson shut off the vid with a scowl.

"Four soldiers dead, and we don't even get credit for the op. A 'token force' my ass. They sent us in alone 'cause they knew damned well anybody else would've only gotten in the way."

"At least they're admitting they were wrong. Sort of," replied Rokelle Burns from behind her book.

There was a snort from the corner of the bunker. _"'Sort of'_ is right," commented Digsi Dais, one of the squad's mages. "Do you have any fuckin' clue how hard it is to get to be proficient enough to even be considered an Initiate?"

"Yeah, cause you whine about it all the time," somebody else jabbed.

"Ah, shuddup. You know what I mean. It takes years of practice to be able to do shit with magic, and here they tell everybody that you're born with the fuckin' powers. I understand _why_ they're sayin' it- hell, I don't like the idea of the idiots they call citizens using magic either- but it still cheapens the whole thing. Humans understand what bein' a mage means. Any dumbass knows that it's the toughest job in the 'verse, and by far th' most dang'rous. Now, with the shit that blue slut was tellin' everybody, people are gonna think it's just a matter of waving your hands and sayin' a few funny words."

"And, you know, slitting your wrists," pointed out Gerja Grint.

"Nah, that's only necessary for the big stuff. Most of yer everyday magic'll work with just a prick. Why do you think we wear those gloves all th' time?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Rokelle asked. "What've the gloves got to do with a sacrifice?"

"There's a needle in th' cloth, dumbass. Move yer fingers just right, and it'll shoot out an' prick yer hand. Draws a few drops of blood. Quicker than using th' dagger, and it only draws a little, which is all ya need for most of the day-to-day stuff. It's really only enchanting or combat, or anything that needs to be done in a hurry, that takes a lot of blood, and that's when you cut yer palms. That's why the gloves leave th palms uncovered, see?"

She held up her hand, displaying the palmless gloves that most mages wore, then made a gesture with her fingers.

"When I do this, only a little farther out with th' pinky an' th' ring finger, it shoots out a needle that pricks the back of my hand. The needle's charmed to only come out on command, so it's not a problem when I don't need it, and it's always there if I do."

"Huh. We've been in the same squad for seven years now, and you've never mentioned any of that, you know that?"

"Ya never asked, dumbass."

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 **The Extranet**

 **CitadelNews. cbo** **/recentnews/humans/discussion/403129/page-3**

[ **AsariFunGirl** ] Holy shit, is this for real? Humans can actually do magic? Like, fireballs and lightning bolts, magic?

[ **OmegaScribe]** No shit, Sherlock. What the hell do you think I do for a living?

[ **IstuHero18]** Bullshit. That's not a job. There's no such thing as a professional biotic user. Why would humans have professional witches?

[ **mofo42]** You guys are idiots. Have you not seen how much pull the Humans have in politics these days? They've been around for like a year and a half, and they're getting away with stuff even the Batarians get in trouble for. They've clearly got some sort of pull on the Council, and they're trying to make themselves look special. They've got a con going, and don't want to let it up.

[ **OmegaScribe]** Istu- We generally prefer "Sorcerer" or, if you wanna be casual about it, "mage." And not all humans are able or willing to do magic. Remember the whole insanity business that you dumbasses thought was just a scam? That's real, too. Most people aren't willing to go nuts just so they can fling a few fireballs around.

[ **AsariFunGirl** ] Wait, seriously? I heard about that, but I thought it was just a joke about how crazy humans are in general. Well, how crazy we thought you were.

 **[ElcorOnCrack]** Trust me Fungirl, they're fuckin' lunatics. I saw a Human casting a spell once. You know how they do it? They _cut themselves._ Nutjob slashed his damned wrists. They _cut themselves_ to do their magic shit. If that's not crazy, I don't know what is.

 **[Ms. Tevos]** Maybe that's why only humans can cast magic! I bet there's something special about their blood, and that shedding it helps them cast spells!

 **[FlyingHanar1991]** That… that could be true, I suppose. We've effectively just been told that everything scientists know is wrong. Scribe, that make sense to you?

 **[ClownIslandTerror]** I can't believe you dumbasses are actually taking this bullshit seriously. At the very, very most, the humans have some kind of advanced technology that lets them fool people into thinking they're using magic. I believe an ancient _human_ author once said "Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

 **[Uncertainty in E Minor]** Clownie boy, you have no _idea_ what you're talking about. My roommate is a member of the Society. I've seen some of the shit he does, and it gives me goosebumps just thinkin about it. More to the point, how could he make a monster out of thin air with technology of any kind?

 **[ClownIslandTerror]** Uncertainty, if I could answer that question, the technology wouldn't be so alien, now would it?

 **[How99200399491…]** So we're taking it as read that Tevos was telling the truth? Not really even counting the _possibility_ that the Humans might be blackmailing the Council, or that this might be a bribe to get the Humans to stop making waves, or something like that?

 **[FlyingHanar1991]** How99… Nah, this was too well done.  There were already videos of Humans doing weird shit, and the Humans provided a public demonstration, which can be viewed here. You _could_ say the videos are faked, but the VIPs at the demonstration swear that it was real, including Primarch Bromcus, and we all know how much he hates Humans. If he's speaking out for them, I'm willing to believe it.

 **[How99200399491…]** Fair enough. I just wanted to make sure we weren't jumping the gun on this. That said, magic! Holy shit!

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Eneen stared at Councilor Tevos through her roommate's TV. Was she _serious?_ Humans could _actually_ perform magic?

"I told you," Alvred said smugly from his chair. "I'm not sure about that stuff about the dark energy, and all that. Seems like they're just trying to make it into something they can understand, if you ask me, but whatever. But yeah, magic is real."

"Why can't you do it then?" Eneen challenged.

Alvred scowled. "I told you, I'm learning. It's tough as hell. It's not like those biotics you do. I have to actually act as a… a sort of door, to the Void. It's almost as hard as it is dangerous, and it's dangerous as fuck. It's not something that people use casually. The Void is a scary place, you know. Most of the Outer Gods live there, somewhere. Azhorra-Tha was unusual in that he was present in this universe."

"I thought the Void was where your ships travel? Why would you go there if it's so dangerous?"

"There's a couple of factors there, as I understand it." Alvred said, as he began to explain what he'd been taught as a Human and as a Student of the Society. "Firstly, the alternative was worse. It was either go to a place where there _might_ be an Outer God, and it _might_ be awake, and it _might_ notice us, or stay in a place where there was _definitely_ an Outer God, and it already knew we were there. We were reasonably certain that blowing up Sol had bought us some time, but we weren't willing to spend too much time anywhere near Earth, or even Gaia. Second, we were insanely careful. Theoretically, we could've gotten here in a few hundred years, I think, but we had to go slowly, and make all kinds of detours any time there was the slightest sign of anything that might have been... alive isn't quite the right word for some of these beings, but you know what I mean. Lastly, and I don't really understand this part very well, our ships somehow had a bubble of Real Space around them. That provides a little bit of protection against some of the things that live there. Like I said, I'm not really sure how that works."

"So why is magic so dangerous? Can't you be careful with that, too?"

"Yes and no. A decent portion of the structure of any spell is composed of safeguards, to make sure that the portion of the Void you're interacting with is relatively safe. Beyond that, it's just a matter of luck. You can set up extra safeguards if you're actually summoning something, but in a normal casting, any extras can throw off the whole balance of the spell. And while just channeling the Void does have a good bit of danger, if you do it right, that's significantly diminished. The hard part is that you've gotta force the substance of the Void to do what you want it to, rather than just exploding, or dissipating into the surrounding area, or doing any one of a million other things, most of them bad. Oh, and you have to have the mental fortitude to stay sane after interacting with the Void. And the willingness to do it, despite the fact that you'll go bonkers eventually, unless you manage to get turned into an Other. Which isn't always all that different, mind you."

Eneen stared at her roommate. "Why on Thessia would you _want_ to do this? If it's that dangerous, and it drives you insane anyway, why the hell would you even try?"

Alvred's face changed, and Eneen almost shrank back away from him as he spoke with a slightly mad look in his eyes.

"Do you have any idea the kind of _power_ a Sorcerer has? Even just an Initiate has more power than any mortal can truly comprehend without experiencing it. You look up to your Matriarchs, but they can't do shit compared to a Sorcerer. And me, I'm not gonna go nuts." His eyes took on an eager glint, and his face was almost terrifying as it seemed to channel a sort of dark desire. "I'm going to go through the Rite of Sacred Union. I'm going to become a Tager. Tagers are gods among men, Eneen, and nobody but another Tager or a stupidly powerful mage can touch them." He seemed to remember suddenly that he was speaking out loud, and returned to the somewhat surly, but mostly normal, roommate Eneen was familiar with. "Besides, with great power comes great responsibility, and all that. Not many people have the ability and mental strength to become a mage, but Humanity, or the Republic now, desperately needs them for all kinds of things. It was the Eldritch Society that managed to distract Azhorrah-Tha for long enough that we could escape and blow up Sol behind us. It was the Society that helped the Terran scientists repurpose our surviving warships into the Escape Fleet, and it was the Society that managed to gather two thousand years' worth of resources and supplies in only a couple of centuries."

"What about the University? I thought they were important, too."

"Well, they are now. They've been the ones responsible for all of our technology and innovation for the past seventeen hundred years or so" Alvred really did seem to enjoy teaching Human history. "But before the War, there wasn't any kind of unification like we have today. There were dozens of organizations, schools, companies, and governments, all competing against each other. It wasn't until Azhorrah-Tha was awakened that they all pooled their resources and started working together, and by then it was too late. It was about 150, during the Preparations, that the University was formed to guard and study Lovecraftian knowledge. Between the Escape and the creation of the University, research was still relatively unregulated. There were still private copies of grimoires and books floating around, and a few competing groups were continuing research into Lovecraftian fields. Eventually, the government decided that access to those kinds of materials should be both shared and restricted, and created a single organization to serve both those purposes. They also decided that if the LSA was going to be spying on and assassinating Sorcerers and scientists, then somebody should be responsible for the poor bastards' mental health to make sure the assassinations weren't necessary. That's when they formed the Psychiatric Institute. Originally, they did exactly what the name said, and what the Bailey plan called for- they monitored and cared for the mental health of University and Society members. Eventually, they started to absorb the LSA's function, using claims that they were euthanizing dangerously insane individuals, until they became the soulless bastards they are today."

"Don't they still do their job, though? Isn't that what the Therapists are for?"

"That's a bit of a mixed bag, to be honest. Some of them, yeah. They do actual therapy. Mostly, though, the Therapists just monitor us and decide how crazy we are, and whether they can justify killing us. Evaluations, diagnoses, stuff like that. And even the ones that _do_ actually counsel their patients are reporting every word of it to their bosses. Fortunately, your people seem to have decided it's their collective job to guide us poor, primitive barbarians out of our delusions. We've probably got more Asari psychiatrists, therapists, counselors, and psychologists here on Gellix than you do on Thessia, and the mages and Professors are thrilled. We've finally got somebody bothering to keep us sane, rather than just shooting us. And now that Tevos is coming clean, they might even start taking us seriously. Eneen, my friend, the Institute is history. It just doesn't know it yet."

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 **The Extranet**

 **Galaxytoday. oxt** **/justnow/humans/talk-about-it/28hg094k/holy_shit/page-7**

 **[TheAnsweredOne]** Does it really matter the reason, Guardian? Humans have made it painfully clear what they think of Asari. There's a Human café _on the Citadel_ that openly won't serve us. I doubt it'll be able to stay open very long if they don't change that rule, but the fact remains that that's an incredibly offensive and primitive viewpoint.

 **[Guardian of Knowledge]** It kind of does. From what I've read of their religion, it basically states that Asari, or something very like you, are evil, demon-worshipping monsters that want to kill them all. Since Tevos just admitted that at least parts of their religion are true, can you really blame them for wanting nothing to do with a species they view as being scarier than a Thresher Maw?

 **[Xx_VoidCowboy_xX]** I'm telling you, that press release was bullshit. The Humans have been contacting the Krogan, and the Council decided to throw the Republic a bone so they wouldn't try to cure the Genophage!

 **[ArdatYakshi79]** Piss off, Cowboy. Nobody wants to hear you conspiracy theories. Now what's this about the Human religion saying Asari are evil?

 **[Guardian of Knowledge]** Read The Shadow Over Innsmouth, one of the Human religious texts. Then read The Reality of Lovecraft's Prophecies, a historical analysis of their religion, and On Asari and the Deep Ones. Tell me it doesn't make sense that Humans are scared shitless.

 **[GrinningKid98]** Dude, that's fuckin' terrifying. Now _I'm_ scared of Asari.

 **[TheAnsweredOne]** Fuck you very much, Grinning. I concede that there may be _some_ truth to _some_ parts of the human religion, but does that story not seem just a little farfetched to you? There is no possible justification for the kind of treatment we receive from those pink hairy bastards.

 **[Six Justicars of Thresher Maw Order]** Be fair now, Answered. This is their _religion._ People tend to be just a little bit irrational when it gets to issues concerning their gods. And when their religion is, apparently, backed up by historical evidence and eyewitness accounts (does anybody have any info on that, btw?), then they'll take it even more seriously. To be honest, I'm surprised they haven't started a Yakshi-hunt yet. I'm no more happy about their speciesism than the next girl, but I can understand the reason for it.

 **[Pervy John]** To be fair, not all of us agree with the idea that the Asari have anything to do with the Deep Ones. The Society has stated that they'll look into it, but they aren't particularly concerned. If there were any real risk, the Society would be taking Asari much more seriously. Plus, Tagers _despise_ the Deep Ones, and, supposedly, can recognize them on sight. I can honestly say that if the two species had any similarities, then Tevos wouldn't have survived the initial discussions.

 **[PaintingJelly]** Gee, _that's_ a relief. So we're relying on the judgement of a group who even the Humans view as dangerously unstable to stave off that Yakshi-hunt?

 **[ArdatYakshi79]** Sorry, but am I missing something here? What's a Tager, and why is it bad that we're relying on their judgement?

 **[Pervy John]** Tagers are the top agents of the Society. They're a specific type of Other, which means that every one of them is immortal, and the youngest of them is over a thousand years old. I can't say anything more than that without approaching treason. The reason Jelly is afraid is because Tagers are predatory and extremely violent. Most Humans (and that's spreading to other citizens of the Republic) are scared shitless of them. I met one once, and it was terrifying. The way he stared at me like I was just a mouse to be played with, then eaten _still_ gives me nightmares. That said, they're extremely loyal to the Society, and there are surprisingly few reports of them going off the rail.

 **[Xx_VoidCowboy_xX]** That's because the Society hushes up anybody who talks about what Tagers get up to!

 **[PaintingJelly]** Shut up, Cowboy.

 **[TheAnsweredOne]** VoidCowboy's idiocy aside, your description fills me with a distinct lack of confidence. If these Tagers truly the only thing keeping Humans from going on a full scale Yakshi-Hunt, I want nothing to do with Gellix.

 **[Pervy John]** 'Kay, I think you guys are taking what I said the wrong way. I said that their failure to kill every Asari they see is proof that you have nothing to do with the Deep Ones. I _didn't_ say that it was the only thing keeping us from going on a witch-hunt. As I said, the Society is researching the similarities, and is fairly sure that they're purely coincidental.

 **[Abandoned139]** Can I just ask why nobody is asking about the word "immortal" in that sentence? How exactly does that work?

 **[Guardian of Knowledge]** The Humans are _insanely_ quiet on that topic, Abandoned, but the basic understanding is that there are various magical ways to become immortal. We don't have any more solid information on the subject, and you won't get anywhere bothering the Humans about it, but by picking through the clues, you can figure out that almost all of these processes drive the user partially insane. And I'm gonna throw a preemptive "Shut up, Cowboy" in here.

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There it is, peeps. A little short, but I thought you guys would prefer I just get it out there and move on, rather than try to come up with another reaction scene. Almost all of the usernames in this chapter are a pun based off of the usernames of my reviewers, so see if you can find yours!


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